


Real Lies

by mmmdraco



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Based on a Korean Drama, Blow Jobs, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Infidelity Outside of Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Minor Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Minor Isaac Lahey/Scott McCall, Minor Jennifer Blake/Kali (Teen Wolf), Minor Peter Hale/Lydia Martin, Mutual Masturbation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-02-09 21:39:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 49,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1998783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmmdraco/pseuds/mmmdraco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When confronted with his past, Stiles accidentally finds himself stuck in a white lie about dating Derek Hale, successful hotelier. The only problem is that Derek finds out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My absolute favorite Korean drama is [Naege Geojitmaleul Haebwa (Lie To Me)](http://wiki.d-addicts.com/Lie_to_Me), and since I really wanted to try writing the fake/pretend relationship trope? I'm riffing on it for this fic. I'm going to try to put out a chapter a week, but I'll say that leaving comments here and talking to me about it on my [tumblr](http://superhappygenki.tumblr.com) are probably going to make it come faster. Thanks for reading!

Beacon Hills wasn't a huge town, really. But, people tended to choose a side of it and stick there. Stiles, for one, tended to stay toward the southern end of town since that was where work (he still wasn't entirely certain how he'd gotten into marketing... and gotten good at it) and home (still living with his father at 25) were. The town only had one high school so he had gone to school with virtually everyone his age, but most of them stayed to the northern end of town. That's where all of the good things were, anyway. The money, the clubs... Stiles was fine where he was, but he couldn't say with any kind of certainty that he didn't just want more sometimes.

He stopped at a different grocery store than he normally did on the way home, figuring that a quick beer run wasn't something worth bargain hunting for. He grabbed something on sale that he remembered being decent and headed up toward the registers, groaning at the fact that only one register was open and there were a few people with full carts in front of him. Setting his beer down on the floor, he picked up a magazine and started to read since it was better than letting his mind go over what it was that made people buy the products they were buying. It was just his luck that the person who got behind him in line was Jackson Whittemore, something of an ex-friend from high school. "Hi," he forced out, not wanting to get into the awkwardness of pretending not to remember Jackson.

Jackson lifted his chin, haughty, and smiled at Stiles. "Hi. It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"What, five years?" Stiles glanced at the shoppers in front of him and tried not to sigh at how much still needed to be processed before it was his turn. "What are you up to now?"

Shrugging one shoulder, Jackson leaned against the cooler that held drinks by the register. "Lydia and I got married and now I'm helping to manage her law firm."

"Oh." Stiles flipped through a few pages of his magazine without looking at them. He'd had a huge crush on Lydia forever, had even worked his ass off in high school to go to the same college as she had, and had confessed all of that to Jackson years ago when Jackson said he couldn't understand her appeal. And then Stiles had run into them on a date together. It had taken him everything he had to keep going to finish up that last semester of school. "Uh, I'm working in marketing. I'm chief of my department." He didn't think it sounded impressive in the face of, well, anything Jackson did.

Jackson twisted his basket of groceries in his hand, letting it hit against his leg and drawing attention to the gold ring on his finger. "Good. You've always been great at showing other people what they want." Stiles' heart seemed to stop at that phrase. "And are you seeing anyone finally?"

Stiles waved his magazine in the air as he answered. "Yeah. I'm actually buying this magazine because my boyfriend's in it. The beer's to celebrate."

Jerking the magazine from his hand, Stiles' brow furrowed. "You're dating Derek Hale?"

Grabbing back the magazine to see that local hotel tycoon Derek Hale did indeed feature on the page he'd flipped to, Stiles smiled, because his marketing company was trying to lure Hale Hotels as a new client, but he'd never even seen their CEO around town. "Yeah. We're not public about it, so don't say anything, but he's just amazing. I can't believe how lucky I am!"

"A guy like that'll date a guy like you?" Jackson's jaw was set firm as he looked Stiles over. "Hmm. Maybe you should join a bunch of us this Saturday for a drink. You don't have plans with Derek, do you?"

Stiles was finally able to put his beer and magazine on the conveyor belt at the register. "If I promise to spend extra time with him on Sunday, I'm sure he won't mind me skipping out just this once. You'll have to give me your number again, though. I've switched phones so much that I think I lost yours."

Handing over a business card a moment later, Jackson nodded. "Great. I'm sure Danny will be happy to see you, too. And to hear all about Derek." He winked and put his basket down behind Stiles' things. "Good seeing you, Stilinski."

Waving one hand back to Jackson, Stiles pulled out his wallet and proceeded to hurry through showing his ID and paying for his items, smiling as he left the store while silently cursing as the bag with the magazine swung in one hand.

At home, he let himself drink two beers while leafing through the magazine, draining the last of the second bottle as he got to the profile of Derek Hale. "You're too good-looking," he said loudly to the page. "Handsome and rich and influential... You could have anyone you wanted, so you're probably a useless playboy. Maybe I just won't call Jackson after all." He paused to purse his lips at the page, dragging a finger over the stubbled jawline printed on the page. "But, it would be nice to see Danny. Maybe just the once. And I'll come clean that it's a joke." He thought back to the ring on Jackson's finger and the time he'd caught him with Lydia. "Maybe... Maybe a little bit after that."

He fell asleep on the couch and woke with the magazine stuck to his cheek as his father walked through the door, back from his overnight shift at the Sheriff's station. "Son, did you forget how to recycle again?"

Stiles rubbed at his cheek where the page had peeled away, realizing that he must have drooled on the magazine some. "No? I just... I ran into Jackson last night and ended up having a pity party."

Patting Stiles' shoulder roughly, his father smiled. "Save the parties for the weekend. You've got work in an hour."

Checking his phone quickly, Stiles' eyes went wide and he fell off the couch in his rush to get upstairs.

* * *

When eight o'clock arrived, Derek Hale entered the lobby of the Sacramento branch of Hale Hotels and began examining it for the precise criteria he demanded they maintain. The people were dressed correctly (though not quite to the standard he held himself to), there was no dust accumulation anywhere that he could find, and the customer complaining about her room was being handled deftly. Everything was well until he actually heard the customer speak. "I came here for my wedding party and they dare to not give me enough towels? If your CEO wasn't so busy dating that boy, maybe things would be better."

Brows furrowing, Derek moved closer to the woman and bowed his head toward her to get her attention. "Pardon me, madam. I couldn't help but overhear your problem. We'll be happy to send up a maid with as many towels as you'd like, as well as a complimentary bottle of champagne for your hassle." He paused briefly, trying to find the words he wanted to use. "I'm sorry to intrude, but as the CEO, I take great pride in maintaining a good atmosphere here. I'm not dating anyone, though, so any problems are merely a failing of my own."

"Oh? But my friend overheard a boy in the grocery store last night saying he was dating you. He's... I think she said he's the Sheriff's son?" The woman looked mollified by the champagne, though, and her anger was ebbing.

With a nod, Derek patted the counter to get the attention of the girl working the desk. "Do take care of the towels and champagne, Sarah. I'll be in my office if you need me." He turned to the customer and put on his best smile. "Have a wonderful wedding, and please let us continue to take care of you here at Hale Hotels." He gave her a small wave and moved over to the elevators, inserting his special key card that would override the rest of the controls and take him directly to his office on the 15th floor off from the business lounge area. He stalked over to his assistant, Erica, and undid the button of his jacket as he glared at her. "I just heard from a customer that the Sheriff's son is going around telling people that I'm dating him."

Erica shrugged and pulled a nail file from her drawer, beginning to slowly shape her nails. "So?"

"So, send Isaac over to make sure that stops." Derek raised an eyebrow at her. "And tell my uncle I'll meet him for lunch at noon in the restaurant downstairs. Their business has dropped slightly and I want to make sure it's not because the quality has."

"Got it, boss." Erica smirked. "You want me to send him now?"

Shrugging off his jacket, Derek nodded. "Problems must be taken care of quickly, Erica. That's how my business continues to run well."

"Right." Erica put down her nail file and reached for the phone, dialing the number for the workroom where Isaac, her assistant, was sorting through mail. "Get to your desk, Derek. You've got papers that need signing.

* * *

Putting on his sunglasses, Isaac got out of his car and headed into the sheriff's station, looking around awkwardly before realizing that taking off the sunglasses was probably the best idea because he couldn't seem to read the signs with them on. He pulled them off again and tried to walk cooly toward the desk. "Hello," he said with a bright smile. "I need to find out where I can talk to the Sheriff's son?"

"Probably at his house," the man at the desk said as he scribbled a note on a Post-It, his shaggy hair curling attractively against his forehead.

"And, where's that?" Isaac forced his smile a little more.

The man at the desk sighed, shifting so that Isaac could read his nametag: Officer McCall. "I cannot give out the address of a private citizen just because you want a date with him or something. Try the karaoke bar over on Lincoln if you want a one-night stand. They like the suited type over there."

Isaac clenched his teeth together and put his palms on the counter in front of him. "Look, he's been going around saying he's dating a guy and I just need to find out if it's true or not."

Officer McCall stood, and Isaac's eyes went wide as a thrum of attraction ran through him. "If Stiles is dating a guy, the guy's lucky. Now, if you don't actually have a reason to be here, I suggest you leave before I'm forced to find something to charge you with."

"Do you go to that karaoke bar?" Isaac pulled his sunglasses from his pocket, playing with one of the arms. "I'm asking about that guy for my boss, but I'm asking about you for, well, me."

Peeling off the Post-It he'd just written on, the officer scribbled something else and slapped the new Post-It down in front of Isaac before looking past him and yelling, "Next!"

Isaac grabbed the yellow paper and left the building, smirking when he got in his car and finally looked at the paper to see a name and phone number. _Scott_. It took him a long moment to realize that Scott had inadvertently given him the name of the Sheriff's son. With a few minutes of Googling, he found the address of Stiles' marketing company and headed over.

The girl at reception gave him a bored look when he asked to speak to Stiles, but picked up the phone and barked off an order to someone else. "He'll be down in twenty minutes or so. He's in a meeting." She snapped a picture of him with her phone and smirked. "I'm sending him this picture of you, so feel free to wander a bit and he'll find you."

"Has he mentioned a boyfriend to you?" Isaac cocked his head, wondering if he should have asked that of Scott. 

"Mr. Stilinski doesn't talk about anything but his job when he's here. He's very professional." She pointed to a table in the corner of the room where a coffee maker was set up. "Feel free to help yourself to coffee, sir."

After two cups of surprisingly good coffee, a man came down the stairs and looked around before beelining toward Isaac. He held out his hand and gave Isaac a warm smile. "Hi. I'm Stiles Stilinski. Susan said you were here about the potential Hale account?"

Isaac's mouth dropped open and he looked down at his name badge and then back up at Stiles as he shook the man's hands. "You're in charge of the new Hale Hotels marketing campaign?"

"I wouldn't say I'm in charge, but I'm the head of the team you're going to want to confer with first." His eyes narrowed as he looked Isaac over. "They haven't already chosen the other company, have they? Because we've got a proven track record and a dedication to confidentiality that is unsurpassed by our competitors."

Clearing his throat, Isaac shook his head. "We're just checking in on things to make sure that everything is progressing as it should."

"Oh, of course!" Stiles gave Isaac an easy smile as he pulled a business card from a holder in his pocket. "Here's my information so that you can contact me more easily next time. I apologize that the information wasn't made available to you before. Those oversights are not typical of our organization and I'll see to it that it won't happen again. Is there anything else I can help you with today?"

Isaac pocketed the business card. "I... I guess that's it for today. I'll be in contact soon."

"Have a good day, Mr. Lahey." Stiles shook his hand again and took a moment to grab a cup of coffee as Isaac walked away. Surely someone had made a mistake?

Back at the office, Isaac scratched at his chin as he walked past Erica and knocked on Derek's door, walking immediately inside, but waiting until Derek gestured to him to speak. "I think someone got confused or something when listening to that guy? He works at one of the places we're looking at contracting for our next round of advertising and everyone had very positive things to say about him. And, I mean, he's the Sheriff's son. You told that woman you weren't dating him, right? So, that should be the end of it."

Derek frowned. "Did you ask him directly?"

"No... He was all business and assumed I was there about the account. I didn't want to potentially ruin anything there." Isaac forced himself to stand straighter. "Should I go back?"

"No." Derek shook his head. "Just keep an eye on the situation." He tilted his head. "Now, get back to work."

Isaac smiled and did just that.

* * *

Stiles slammed his hand against his phone on Saturday morning, attempting to shut off his alarm without having to look at it, but was forced into opening his eyes when he sent the phone halfway across the room. Groaning, he got out of bed and picked up his phone, shutting off the alarm only to realize he had a text waiting. His stomach seemed to drop away when he realized it was from Jackson about getting together that afternoon. He briefly considered changing his number and moving, but immediately vetoed that because he couldn't leave his father. He could fake one more day of dating, and then fake a breakup later. No one would question Derek Hale dumping him when they were too busy questioning how Derek could like him in the first place.

He took a long time doing everything that day. He read the ingredients list of everything he ate, made sure that every nook _and_ cranny of his English muffin was full of peanut butter, let his coffee get cool by the time he finished the last sip. He carefully considered a few trades for his fantasy baseball lineup, answered a few emails that he'd been putting off, and spent 45 minutes looking at sheets online because he'd had the vague idea that he wasn't going to be satisfied with the ones he'd find in stores. After ordering some that were guaranteed to feel soft fresh out of the packaging, he glared at the time on his phone. It was almost 1pm and he had three more hours to kill. In a fit of pique, he threw on clothes and went shopping. A guy dating Derek Hale wouldn't be wearing sweatpants and a graphic tee. 

With his ratty weekend clothes shoved into a bag in his car, and wearing a shirt, tie, waistcoat, and a pair of slacks, Stiles stopped at a cafe to grab a quick half sandwich before meeting everyone since he hadn't bothered with lunch and wasn't sure if dinner plans were included in what they were doing. As he wiped mustard off of his hand, he paused and looked up to see the jewelry store across the street. If he was going to sell it...

It didn't take long to pick out a simple gold ring that fit his general likes. It did take him nearly twenty minutes to commit to buying it, though. He'd just dropped a few hundred on the new outfit, and the ring... That brought his day's totals up to closer to $1000 than he really wanted to think about. It was a lot to spend on a lie, but then he remembered the way it looked when he caught Jackson kissing Lydia. It made it so much easier to hand over his credit card with a smile.

With the ring on his finger and his thumb rubbing at it already, Stiles drove to the address that Jackson had sent him, not terribly surprised to find that it was Jackson's house. When he pulled into the driveway, he forced himself to take a deep breath and walked to the front door. When the door opened, Stiles' mouth went dry. "Stiles?"

"Uh, hi. Lydia. I'm here to hang out with Jackson and the guys, I guess?" He tried not to catalogue the changes the years had made to her, but it was proving difficult.

"Oh! That's great." She smiled broadly and gestured him inside. "I'm heading out for a girl's night myself, but it's good seeing you." She stepped past him and pointed inside. "They're just down the hall. Bye!"

Stiles stood there for a long moment, fiddling with the ring on his finger and watching Lydia leave, then forced himself to close the door and walk down the hall toward where Jackson and whoever "the guys" consisted of. It proved to be Danny Mahealani, Vernon Boyd, and another guy he'd played lacrosse with... Greenberg? "Uh, hey. Lydia let me in."

Danny was the first one to smile at him, dimples going deep as he gestured Stiles over into the seat next to him. "Hey, man! When Jackson told me you were coming, I thought he had brain damage. But, I'm glad you're here."

Vernon, no... He went by Boyd, didn't he? Boyd just smirked at him and nodded, but he'd always been a quiet guy. Greenberg had his mouth full of something and just gave a little wave. That left Jackson to push over a shot glass and hold up a bottle of whiskey. "A toast to the guy who landed that Derek Hale dick?"

Stiles waited until Jackson had the glass filled, then picked it up with his left hand to show off the ring. "Did I ever strike you as someone who just wanted the D?"

Letting out a little whistle, Danny grabbed one of the other shot glasses that Jackson was filling. "So, what's he like in the sack? Because, he seems like a wild animal."

Tapping his glass against Danny's, Stiles slammed back the whiskey, wincing at the burn as he put the glass down. "I don't really like to talk about that, but it's good. Very good. Each time is like a new best." It wasn't really a lie since you couldn't really compare nothing to nothing.

Jackson's jaw shifted to one side as he inhaled before downing his own shot. "Where are you living these days?"

"With..." Stiles paused and looked around the group, knowing he couldn't say 'with my dad'. "Derek. I just moved in with him, actually."

"Into that place uptown with all of the weird lighting?" Greenberg leaned forward, suddenly interested. It made Stiles remember that the guy had been all about architecture in school. "It was featured in a magazine a few months ago."

Stiles coughed. "Uh, I don't know. He's got a few places, but the one we're in right now is done very monochromatic?" He wondered just how much he was making up about Derek Hale.

"I didn't even know he was gay." Danny sighed dramatically. "If I had, I might have gone down a different career path. Where'd you meet?"

"We ran into each other. Running. There around the preserve? He scraped his knee and I happened to have a first aid kit." Stiles grabbed the whiskey bottle and refilled his glass. "But, that's all boring stuff. Tell me what's up with you guys!"

Everyone told a little about themselves. Danny had just broken up with his bartender boyfriend ("So, excuse me if I need to live vicariously through you for a bit."). Boyd had just started a new job ("Just opened my own ice rink. It's no hotel chain, but I've got a sweet Zamboni."). Greenberg was working toward a Masters degree in Architecture ("I want to design amazing apartments. You should let me come visit yours sometime!"). 

And then there was Jackson. "I'm doing great at my job and Lydia is amazing. The sex is fantastic, by the way. Thought you should know."

Downing a third shot, Stiles gave Jackson a tense grin. "I guess. I mean, Derek was really reluctant to even let me come today because he wanted to just stay in bed, but maybe it's just that we're still pretty new together. I guess later he'll be more open to hanging out with friends."

"So, he's possessive?" Danny traced his finger along the rim of his glass, leaning in slowly.

"More like perpetually horny." Stiles gave Danny a lecherous grin. "He's very difficult to wear out, but damn is it fun to try."

Jackson coughed loudly and held up the whiskey bottle. "Enough about sex. Who wants more?"

They ended up ordering pizza and playing poker which actually made Stiles feel better about the whole ordeal. He won $200 off of the other guys, even pushed a bit past tipsy, and managed not to get any pizza on his clothes. When he got a text, he fumbled with his phone and looked it over, frowning. "Geez, he wants me home now?"

"I guess Derek must love you," Danny said wistfully. "My ex didn't even notice when I went out of town for the weekend."

Stiles decided not to clarify that it had been his dad texting. "Yeah, well, it was nice seeing you guys. Next time, I'll try not to take all of your money."

"Yeah, Stilinski." Jackson glared up at him for a moment before his face softened with a hint of smile. "Next time."

Driving slowly even though he was reasonably certain he'd metabolized enough of the whiskey to no longer be considered drunk, Stiles cursed himself the whole way home. "Yeah, sure. I'm fucking nesting with Derek fucking Hale and we're two little lovebirds who can't get enough sex. That's totally going to end in disaster really soon." When he parked in the driveway, he slammed his head against his steering wheel, sighing when it set off a sharp blast of the horn.

* * *

That night, Stiles walked over to his best friend's house, and knocked on the door. When Scott opened the door, Stiles held up his hands in a praying gesture. "Please tell me that you are up to the challenge of getting me utterly wasted while also telling me that I can do this thing that I really shouldn't be doing."

"Dude, you know I would, but Allison's on her way over and-" Scott stopped himself. "I'm sorry, dude. I'm off on Thursday so if this can wait until Wednesday."

Stiles sighed. "You owe me."

Scott smiled. "Anything, dude. I know I'm being a dick, but I finally got her to even talk to me again. I don't want to ruin things so soon." He coughed. "And I just realized I forgot to put on deodorant and she'll be here any second. Later, Stiles!"

With the door closing in his face, Stiles forced a smile on his face and turned back toward his own place, intent on drinking without supervision.


	2. Chapter 2

Waking up with the pillow sticking to his face, Stiles groaned and punched the bed with one hand. "I'm never drinking like that again."

"Good," came a voice from the other side of the room, forcing Stiles to open his eyes and look over at a girl about his own age leafing through a magazine.

"Uh... Who are you?" Pushing himself up to a sitting position, Stiles surveyed himself, somewhat relieved that he was still in the clothes he'd worn the night before.

Standing up, the girl moved closer to him, climbing across the bed with a pout marring her expression. "You don't remember the fun we had? I'm sad." She snorted suddenly. "Actually, I'm not sure I ever introduced myself. I'm Cora. We met at the bar last night and bonded over making stupid decisions. You're fake dating someone you've never met and I decided to come back from South America. But, then you got completely wasted and puked on my shoes so you dragged me home with you. I didn't want to go groping you for your wallet for the cleaning fees. So, pay up and call me a taxi and I'll be on my way."

Blinking, Stiles remembered enough of the night before that he didn't question Cora's explanation. "I'm Stiles. You wanna stay for breakfast first?"

"Breakfast." Cora raised an eyebrow. "I don't suppose you've got a waffle iron?"

Rolling his eyes, Stiles tossed back the covers and slid out of bed. "My waffles will make you weep. Just wait." He headed into the bathroom and went through some necessary ablutions before heading to the kitchen and starting coffee before anything else. "Why do I barely have a hangover?"

Cora sat down at the table and continued flipping through the magazine she'd had earlier. "Because I made you take painkillers and drink a whole bottle of water last night." She frowned at a page in the magazine. "Huh. Derek Hale is actually smiling."

His eyes going wide, Stiles looked at the magazine. Of course it was the one he'd picked up while talking to Jackson. "Just... Don't. That's the dude I'm fake dating. I don't even know how I... Ugh. He'd hate me. I need to fake break this off. Nobody even believes it anyway."

"Now, how do you know that if you've never even met the guy?" Cora smirked. "Give me your phone. I'm giving you my number and I'm going to be your fairy godmother."

Stiles paused in pulling a bowl from the cabinet along with the waffle iron. "Uh, my what?"

"Your fairy godmother. I've got an in with some people who know Derek. I'm sure I can help get people off your back or something. I promise I'm useful." Cora held out her hand. "Phone?"

Setting the bowl on the counter and plugging in the waffle iron, Stiles dug his phone from his pocket, grimacing at it. "I didn't charge it last night, but it's got enough juice to take a number. Hey, you want blueberries in your waffles?"

With a roll of her eyes, Cora stood up and snatched the phone from Stiles' hand. "However you want to make them."

At Stiles began to work on the waffle batter, he found himself lost in thought. "Do you actually know Derek Hale?"

Cora flipped a page of the magazine. "Barely. It's been a few years since I've seen him, too."

"Oh." With the first waffle cooking, Stiles leaned against the counter and frowned. "I don't even know where I'm supposed to go from here with this whole thing. How does anyone keep up the illusion that they're dating someone they've never met?"

"It would probably help if you actually met him." Cora dropped the magazine on the table. "Do you work today?"

Pulling out the butter from the fridge, Stiles paused. "I do, but it's an optional workday thing. I don't actually need to. Even if I did go in, I've got to wait on other people to finish things before I can start on anything else. So, sure. Free today for horrible plans."

With a snort, Cora turned in her chair to stare at him. "It's not a horrible plan. It's a great one. You'll meet Derek Hale and maybe you'll make a connection. For all you know, you'll get to stop lying because it'll start being the truth."

Placing the first waffle on a plate in front of Cora, along with the butter and syrup, Stiles sighed. "It's going to blow up in my face. I might as well deal with it on my day off. Just... if it's bad? I'm relying on you to not let me buy bottom shelf alcohol."

Looking down at the waffle, Cora hummed. "And I'm relying on you to bring me silverware." She snapped her fingers. "Come on. You'll be fine."

Pulling a fork and knife from the drawer, Stiles sighed. "I barely know you, so if you're wrong? I have absolutely no problem throwing you under the bus."

Cora shrugged. "Whatever."

* * *

At the sound of a clearing throat, Derek looked up from the report on his desk, scowling slightly. "Peter."

Undoing the lower button of his jacket before sitting, Peter smiled. "Is it such a surprise that your uncle would want to come see you?"

"Since you cleared me out of my good scotch last time and haven't sent me the bottle to replace it that you promised? Yes. It's a surprise. What's up?" Derek closed the cover of the report and folding his hands together.

"Your meeting with Arcadia is next week, isn't it?" Peter smirked. "Deucalion is an interesting man. Very interested in the bonds of man."

Raising one eyebrow, Derek stared at Peter for a long moment. "If there's supposed to be some kind of lesson here, I suggest you just tell me. I don't have time for your games today."

With a huff of breath, Peter stood up. "It's been years since Kate, Derek. Get a girlfriend. A boyfriend. A pet you can carry in your pocket. If you want the money from that affiliation, you need to show ol' Duke you can actually have something in your life that wasn't just given to you." He buttoned his jacket once more and smirked. "Take some time to actually go out on the town tonight. There's more to life than this hotel, Derek. There are even other branches of it!"

As the door closed behind Peter, Derek scowled and muttered aloud, "It would be easier if I could trust you here, you know." He sighed and let his head fall into his hands, deciding to at least head down to the hotel restaurant for dinner.

* * *

It wasn't until the early evening that Stiles and Cora headed down to Sacramento in his Jeep, giving Cora time to go home and change and giving Stiles time to figure out what to wear. And then for Cora to sigh when she saw him before dragging him out to buy something new. Driving in brand new clothes wasn't a very big deal, usually, but somehow Cora had talked him into a shirt that cost three times what he normally spent on them and a pair of pants that cost about the same as a month's worth of gas. He's tried to talk her out of the blazer, but somehow that just got him talked into both the blazer and a tie. He wasn't hurting for money, really, but he wasn't so flush with it that he dropped it on things with any regularity. Still, she hadn't tried to con him into buying her a new pair of shoes, and it wasn't like he'd never get a chance to wear the outfit again, so he'd gone with it. Cora's smirk as she pulled the tag from his pants to hand to the cashier made it worth it. A little. But, wearing something that probably cost as much as the next repair on his Jeep for the almost hour long car ride was interesting in the kind of way that cooking was when he really needed an apron, but couldn't find one.

Pulling up in front of Hale Hotel, Stiles drummed his thumb quickly against the steering wheel. "Where should I park?"

Cora laughed softly. "Valet. I'm not walking that far in these shoes."

Nodding, Stiles pulled up to the valet area and turned off the Jeep, hopping out and handing his keys over to the attendant while taking his stub. "Hey, uh, she's a little rough going from first to second, but if you gun it a little right before you shift? It goes so much easier." He forced a grin and then followed Cora who was already headed into the building. "Hey!"

"What?" Cora tucked her clutch purse under her elbow and kept walking.

"So... it's like 6 o'clock. Why did we come to the hotel, anyway? Does Derek live here or something?"

Sighing, Cora crowded him off to one side. "He's a workaholic. In his world, it's not 'already' six, it's 'only' six. Besides, I have contacts here. You're going to sit in the restaurant and have food and keep an eye out while I go see if I can find out more information."

"And you couldn't call them?" Stiles groaned and leaned against the wall, wincing when his elbow hit hard against it.

"Not really. Remember, I was in South America. For years. Now, go. Get seated and I'll come find you here in a little while." She waved him away and walked to the opposite side of the hotel from where the elevators were that would take him up to the restaurant. 

Taking a few deep breaths, he pushed off from the wall and moved toward the elevators, pressing the button and continuing to force himself to take deep breaths as he waited. It arrived a moment later and emptied, letting him take a step inside and calm slightly, only to have an arm suddenly stick through the closing doors and force them back open. "What the hell?"

The doors opened slightly again to reveal an attractive older man who smirked at him and stepped inside the elevator, checking the display of lights. "Headed to dinner alone?"

"For the moment. A friend is meeting me later," Stiles said, then pursed his lips at the man. "You?"

Eyebrows raising, he arranged himself artfully against the wall of the elevator. "Probably alone. Unless you'd like to join me?"

"Are you serious?" Stiles laughed loudly enough for it to echo. "I don't even know you!"

"I'm Peter Hale." He smirked and held out his hand. "Does that make a difference?"

Stiles looked at Peter's manicured hand for a moment before grabbing it and shaking it quickly. "Not... really? I'm... I'm here for business. Researching. I really shouldn't let myself be swayed by anything."

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Peter lifted his chin as he moved toward them. "Well, if you're worried about something like that... I hope you enjoy your meal." He stepped away with a smile, leaving Stiles to head into the restaurant with his brow furrowed and his shoulders slumped, wondering if he should have taken the opportunity to get Peter to introduce him to Derek. Still, he was fairly certain he'd just been hit on, and that never boded well when trying to get someone to introduce you to someone else.

* * *

The sound of the ring of the phone was sharp in Derek's office, making him upset a stack of papers as he reached for it. "What?"

There was a soft laugh. "Really, nephew? That's how you answer your phone?"

"When I'm not expecting calls and it's after hours and I'm _working_? Yes." Derek sat back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head. "I'll even repeat it. What?"

"There's a man in the restaurant that you should go sway." Peter's voice held a hint of amusement.

Sighing, Derek stood up, knowing that Peter would somehow get him there if past experiences proved anything. "Why should I?"

"He said he was here for business. Researching, even. Now, who do we know who would send a person like that?" Peter huffed out a breath.

"Deucalion." Derek grabbed his jacket and began sliding it on. "What's he look like?"

There was a pause. "About your height. Skinny and pale, but button nose and dotted with moles. Eyes like whiskey, and a mouth like sin."

Sighing, Derek paused to glance at his reflection in the window, nodding at it. "I'm not going to sleep with some guy for a contract we want, and even if I did? You don't get to watch."

"You ruin all of my fun." Peter made a noise of disapproval.

Derek headed toward the elevator with a roll of his eyes. "Not all of it, Peter. Just the parts that aren't fun for anyone else." He hung up and tucked his phone into his pocket.

* * *

Stiles let his thumbs tap against his menu, not really reading so much as looking between the words and the restaurant's entrance. He'd glanced around when he first came in and hadn't seen Derek, but he didn't really think he would. The very idea seemed preposterous, yet there was a little niggling part of himself (the same part berating him for even saying anything to Jackson in the first place) that swore that Derek would be here and everything would go horribly. That might have been the reason why he slammed the menu down, upsetting his glass of water, when he looked up again and saw Derek Hale himself walking over with a smile. Stiles stood up, grabbing his napkin and attempting to clean up the water, but scattering his silverware everywhere in the process. "I'm... I'm sorry!"

Derek frowned at him, but quickly recovered his smile. "It's fine. Spills happen." He held out his hand. "I'm Derek Hale."

Wiping his hand on a dry part of the tablecloth, Stiles took Derek's hand and shook it, finding it hard to pull away when the other man's hand was so warm. "I'm, uh, Stiles Stilinski."

"That's an interesting name." Derek lifted his free hand to gesture to the hostess. "How about we get a different table so they can clean this one up? You don't seem to have ordered yet, so it won't be a problem."

Finally pulling his hand back, Stiles straightened his jacket. "Uh, yeah. Okay." He allowed himself to be led over to a different table, dragging his menu with him, and actually took some time to try to read it this time, if only because it kept his eyes off of Derek who somehow managed to look even better in person than he did in photographs. "So, um, anything you recommend?"

"The filet mignon." Derek folded his hands together on the table, nodding with his words. "I don't have it every time, but it's what I always come back to."

The lack of prices on the menu made Stiles pause, but he wasn't certain the filet would actually cost much more than the salmon. "Yeah, sure. I normally cook, but I rarely get to have red meat since I cook for my dad, too, and you definitely don't want the sheriff getting heart disease, right?"

Derek paused. "Sheriff?" He leaned closer. "Sheriff of where?"

Stiles cleared his throat, his heart starting to beat faster. "Beacon Hills. Well, here in Beacon County. But, we live in Beacon Hills. Do you even know it? It's a little way from here, so..."

"You!" Derek's smile dropped. "You're the one going around pretending to date me and now you come here pretending to investigate for Arcadia in order to... what? What's your game?" One of his hands clutched at the tablecloth, his face going red.

Placing his palms flat on the table, Stiles forced himself to take several deep breaths. "Please, calm down. I can explain. Well, uh, I can explain the first part, but I don't know anything about the second part because I'm not pretending to be anyone right now." He paused. "And, come to think of it, how did you even find out I said I was dating you? That was only between me and a friend, well, an ex-friend who made an assumption that I didn't correct?"

"Do you ever shut up?" Derek let go of the tablecloth and glared at Stiles. "You talked with my uncle in the elevator. He said you told him something about coming here for business." 

"I..." Stiles licked his lips, still trying to regain some semblance of calm. "He was kind of hitting on me and offering to eat with me and I didn't really want him to."

"But you were fine with me sitting down with you." Derek's eyebrows lifted.

Laughing suddenly, Stiles ran a hand through his hair. "Well, yeah! Have you seen you? That's why I wasn't going to disabuse Jackson of the notion that I was dating you. Well, I mean, I was going to eventually, but he kind of stomped all over my heart years ago by telling me there was nothing special about the girl I liked and then swooping in and romancing her and not telling me. And then he didn't apologize for not telling me. It was a joke. Seriously. The me about you, not the him about me. He was a jackass. _I_ am a jackass. I really didn't... But, Arcadia? Really? Is that why you guys are looking at new marketing? Because, we really need to change the representative angle if you're looking for corporate business in addition to personal."

Derek stared at him while he tried to process everything Stiles had just said, only remembering as Stiles looked poised to speak again that Isaac had mentioned that Stiles worked for one of the prospective marketing teams that Hale Hotels was looking into hiring. "Things said in public aren't said into a vacuum, Mr. Stilinski. You were overheard by someone who was all too happy to tell her friends who were equally loose-lipped. I don't care how you do it, but you've got a week to make sure that anyone who has heard that ridiculous statement is entirely disabused of the notion."

"And how am I supposed to do that? Hold a press conference?" Stiles groaned. "Look, can you just..." He trailed off at the sight of a tall, dark woman walking over with purpose.

"Can I just what?" Derek reached out to grab Stiles' wrist, but succeeding only in gripping his hand. "Stiles?" He paused as he finally seemed to notice the woman. "Oh, uh, hello. Kali, wasn't it?"

She smirked and looked down at Derek's hand. "I spotted you across the room and figured I would come by to say hello. I didn't realize you were on a date." Derek started to say something, but Kali continued speaking. "Deucalion will be glad to hear it. He doesn't trust single men, but he does so dearly want to trust you."

Jaw tensing, Derek let his fingers slide between Stiles'. "Give him my regards, then. Now... I should really get back to my date."

Kali tossed her hair with a grin. "Of course. I'll see you on Wednesday. It's a casual meeting, of course, so feel free to invite your boyfriend for the luncheon." She winked at Stiles. "Hope to see you there."

Neither of them spoke until Kali was back at her own table, and only because their waitress came by and was waved away by them both. Derek looked up at Stiles afterward and sighed. "Look, it's obvious now that this... farce of yours has the potential to benefit me, too. So, you're going to come here tomorrow and we're going to work out a contract that is mutually beneficial, and then we will break up later and go our separate ways."

"Okay." Stiles wiped at his upper lip and let out a shaky breath. "I... I think I need to go. I've actually got a friend who made me come here and she... I need to drive her home. I..." He cleared his throat. "I've got work tomorrow, so I won't be able to be here until probably seven?"

Derek nodded once. "How do you take your steak?"

"Excuse me?" Stiles paused in taking his phone from his pocket.

"That's when I normally have dinner. We might as well eat, especially since you won't get to experience it tonight." Derek shrugged, his eyes locked on Stiles.

Stiles nodded quickly. "Uh, medium-rare. And I don't have any allergies, so whatever it comes with, I'll eat."

"I'll see you tomorrow around seven, then. Meet me in my office." He stood up and moved around next to Stiles, bending down to whisper in his ear, "I don't know how you managed this fiasco, but I'm still considering suing the pants off of you."

Swallowing roughly, Stiles watched Derek walk away and then looked down at his phone to call Cora. "Hey," he said as he heard her pick up. "So, I'm dating Derek Hale now. Only..." He laughed suddenly. "He's not a serial killer, right? Because murder looks like a thing he's done once or twice." 

Cora gasped softly. "Are you still in the restaurant?"

"I'm just leaving." Stiles stepped away from the table, his legs shaky. "I'll meet you at the front door, I guess?"

"Yeah." Cora hummed. "Do I still need to remind you not to drink the bottom shelf alcohol?"

Stiles shook his head as he left the restaurant. "I'm not drinking tonight at all. I'm going to need all of my faculties about me tomorrow."

With a huff of breath, Cora asked, "What happens tomorrow?"

Hitting the down button for the elevator, Stiles inhaled sharply. "I'm not sure, but I don't think it's good."


	3. Chapter 3

Work seemed to take forever the next day, and in more than the usual way. To a point, Stiles was glad of it. The longer work took, the longer he could avoid having to reconcile how attractive he found Derek to how much he was reasonably certain the other man was going to kill him. But, it did leave him more than a little irritable when his last client of the day refused to even allow Stiles to present the second image of his new ad campaign until he had seen the focus testing data for the entire campaign, leading to him leaving the office twenty minutes late. He ran home to shower and threw on the first clean jeans and t-shirt he came across then took off for Sacramento, already wondering if he should bill Derek for his gas and mileage.

If it hadn't been for having to wait for the elevator, he might have made it to Derek's office on time. Still, he was only a few minutes late and figured it was close enough. He knocked as he let himself through the door, one hand smoothing the fabric of his shirt across his stomach as though it might quell his nervousness. Derek jerked his head up, glancing at his watch before scowling. "You're late."

Inhaling sharply, Stiles sat down on the small couch in the room and glared at Derek. "Work ran long. Be amazed you got me this close to on time."

"And yet you had time to run home, shower, and change? You could have come directly from work." Derek took a seat in his desk chair and picked up a notepad and pen, scrawling something across the top of the first page.

"You're right." Stiles crossed his legs and leaned back into the cushions. "I could have come here in my suit, but my dry cleaner charges me less if I don't have a lot of wrinkles in whatever I bring in. And an hour long trip in a vehicle? Wrinkles. And I could have skipped the shower except I didn't get to take one this morning since I overslept after having a panic attack last night because of you!" He could sense the tension in his own shoulders and wondered if Derek could see it in the way he was sitting.

Derek snorted. "You had a panic attack because of me? Why? Aren't we supposed to be dating?"

Stiles stood up and glared at Derek, his jaw tensing. "Really? Because the last I heard, people you're dating aren't supposed to be threatening you. They're not supposed to be ordering you around. I was all ready to apologize and to make things right last night when _you_ said we were going to do this for _your_ benefit. _I_ can still back out. Hell, I can go explain things to Deucalion right now. I might lose my job or lose a lawsuit or even get killed by your over this, but don't you dare for a second pretend like you haven't put your own foot in it here, buddy. We're in this together now, and you're the one who did that."

Pressing a button on his phone, Derek said firmly, "Have dinner brought in now." He let the button go and stared at Stiles for a long moment, his own gaze defiant, before he nodded once. "I had you come here tonight so that we can draw up a contract of sorts. If we're going to do this, there need to be rules that we both agree on."

His shoulders slumping slightly, Stiles returned the nod. "One of those rules is that you're not doing to try to sue me."

"We'll see." Derek looked up as the door opened and a short middle-aged man pushed a cart into the room bearing two covered trays. They were deposited on a small table in the room and the lids were removed before two glasses were placed beside them and filled with a dark red wine before the server left without a word. "Sit. We'll talk as we eat and see what concessions we're willing to make to one another."

Stiles looked between the two plates for a moment before just pointing. "Which one's mine?"

Derek moved to take his own seat, setting the notepad and pen on the table beside him, then tugging at his own collar with a grimace. "They're the same. That's also how I like my steak cooked." He picked up his glass of wine then looked quickly between Stiles and the empty seat, eyes narrowing. "Sit down."

Sliding into the chair, Stiles cleared his throat and picked up his wine to take a quick sip. "So, um, we know we need to sell the image of this relationship and that's kind of what I do for a living, so..."

Setting down his wine without tasting it, Derek picked up his fork and knife, sawing into his steak. "It's not as though I don't also have a job that requires me to show care in how things look to everyone else." He shoved the first bite of filet mignon in his mouth, chewing quickly.

"Yeah?" Stiles stabbed an asparagus spear, lifting it up with a huff of breath. "You can't even pretend to be polite. Unless this _is_ your polite, dude, and then I really have to wonder why anyone lets you get away with anything. A hot bod only actually gets you so far."

Derek ended up sawing at the plate as he cut his next bite of steak while watching Stiles eat his asparagus. "Don't call me 'dude'. You'll call me Derek."

Licking a drop of melted butter from the corner of his mouth, Stiles snorted. "Right, sure. But, pet names are totally a thing I do, so if you want to establish a list of which ones you're willing to let me call you..."

"You'll call me Derek." The roasted potato he stabbed seemed to disintegrate under his fork. "What is your real name? I prefer not to use nicknames."

Finally cutting off a small bite of steak, Stiles snorted. "You couldn't pronounce it convincingly enough to show we've been together for longer than a few days. It's Polish and horrible. Stiles is weird enough, I know, but if you're forcing me to call you Derek, I'm forcing you to call me Stiles." He popped the bite of steak into his mouth, humming softly as he chewed. "You're right. The filet is excellent."

Taking a long gulp of wine, Derek tried to find some kind of calm in the situation. It only came in watching Stiles' neck as he swallowed, realizing that at least he was intending to fake a relationship with someone he found attractive. "How many people are we going to have to fool on your side of things?"

"Mine? Half a dozen friends, maybe the woman I used to be in love with, and probably my dad so he doesn't accidentally say something weird." Stiles coughed. "You?"

Blanching, Derek gulped back more wine. "Far more than that. There will likely be reporters at that event on Wednesday. Kali invited you personally. You have to attend."

"I have work that day, du- Uh, Derek. I can't just go taking off whenever I feel like it. I'm an awesome employee." Stiles put his wine down with a loud _thunk_ , reaching up to run a hand through his hair. "But, I will do that if, and only if, you'll let me have my friends over this Saturday at your place. Well, uh, whichever one was featured in some magazine recently? You don't even need to be there, then."

Derek nodded. "We need a story of how we met."

"I..." Stiles cleared his throat. "I told my friends that I met you running out in the preserve in Beacon Hills and you needed a Band-Aid from scraping your knee? Yeah, knee. And I gave you one."

"I suppose I should be thankful you remember your lies, at least." Derek took a moment to slip his tie off, carefully wrapping it around itself before setting it on the table. "You're also incredibly lucky that your lie actually works. Our old family estate is located in the Beacon Hills preserve, after all."

"Really?" Stiles went to spear one of his potatoes, but knocked it off the plate with a frown. "I thought the only thing out there was the..." His eyes went wide as he picked up the potato. "You're... The Hale... Oh, fuck. You probably already know my dad."

There was a long moment of silence as Derek's brow furrowed, then his eyes suddenly widened. "Sheriff Stilinski is your father."

"Yeah. Uh... It's not a common last name so I kind of expect other people to recognize me by it while I just flounder around and pretend I know everyone. Or that they know me. But, Hale! That Hale. The Hales who kind of built the town I live in so of course they also built an international hotel chain." Stiles licked his lips nervously. "It's a nice place, by the way. The hotel, that is. Not that your house out in the woods isn't nice, you know, but even after they rebuilt it people still think it's haunted or whatever and it doesn't help that no one is ever there. Do you ever go there? Seriously, why do people at home never talk about you like you're from there? And why couldn't you have driven up to meet me?"

Derek pushed his plate away, frowning. "I guess I don't want the reminder of all of the death that had to happen to put me where I am. As for the people of Beacon Hills not talking about me being from there? I'm hardly as famous as you seem to think. And, you had to drive here because my time is worth more than yours is."

"You are such a dick." Stiles stabbed a potato. "I may not make as much money as you do, but I also worked for my position. I'm not saying you don't work hard because if you didn't this place would probably sink, but not all of us get that leg up." He shoved the potato in his mouth, chewing quickly as he slapped his fork down on top of his plate. "Let's just do this contract thing. I can fake liking you when I need to, I'm sure."

Pushing the notepad and pen over to Stiles, Derek shrugged one shoulder. "There are a few of my requirements. Add yours at the bottom."

Stiles scowled and looked over what Derek had already written. "Wait, what? No. I am not only wearing designer suits when I'm around you. Cotton is not actually going to kill you."

"Linen is acceptable," Derek said, cutting into his steak once more. "I don't know what the dress code is where you work, but I'm a professional and I expect those around me to be professional, as well."

With a snort, Stiles tapped the pen against something Derek had written, then scribbled it out. "I am also not withholding all physical affection. You may not want my body for real, but there's no way anyone would buy that I wouldn't be all over you. I can tone it back, y'know, for professional reasons, but you'll have to put up with me touching you. You'll need to touch me, too. That's how people buy this stuff. Two people who don't touch who are supposed to be in a relationship? People don't buy into that at all. It's like..." He snapped his fingers, his index finger extended forward in a pantomimed gun. "If you do a commercial for laundry detergent and it doesn't show you a before and after, people don't trust it to clean anything. Market research, baby."

"We'll set a certain number of touches to accomplish prior to any given situation." Derek cleared his throat. "You are... sufficiently attractive that I doubt anyone will question my choice too much."

"So you do have a sex drive!" Stiles wrote something else out, his tongue peeking out from between his wet lips. "I'll at least dress nicer than this for our other appointments if you give me access to your place in Beacon Hills. I kind of told my friends I had already moved in with you, so..." He met Derek's gaze, then quickly looked back down at the paper. "No linen because I hate it, but I will wear khakis and polo shirts and-" He paused. "Well, I'll put away my t-shirts except for sleeping in, I guess."

Derek waved his fingers before leaning his head against his palm. "I'll be moving in there, then. I don't trust you."

Quickly swallowing another spear of asparagus, Stiles shook his head. "You don't trust me? I don't trust you. You're using me as much as I'm using you, pal. We're making a contract here. We'll add in penalties for not adhering to the stipulations we agree on."

"What kind of penalties?" Derek let himself sit up straight again, his arms dropping to cross in front of him. "I hope you don't mean money."

Stiles shook his head. "No. Not money. Things like... If you aren't affectionate enough when you meet my friends, you'll have to come pick me up at work for a coffee date. And if I embarrass you at your company thing on Wednesday somehow, I'll also come bring you lunch some other day when you know Deucalion or someone will be here for a meeting."

"This is a horrible idea." Derek picked up his fork again, sliding a chunk of potato through some of the meat juices left on the plate. "How many exes do I need to worry about with you, anyway?"

Pausing in writing something, Stiles shook his head. "None, really. I fell in love with a girl I went to school with a decade ago, worked my way through college at her side, and got to watch as she got together with a guy I thought was my friend who had told me over and over again that he didn't like her at all. She... I don't think she ever cared, so it's just that friend. He's the reason I started this whole thing in the first place. I... So, no exes." He cleared his throat. "And you?"

"Hopefully none, but possibly two of them. I dated Kate Argent years ago, but she couldn't... That ended after my parents died. I had a relationship with another woman, Jennifer, a few years ago, but she seemed to be upset that I had all of these hotels, but rarely traveled for any length of time." Derek paused. "How long are we going to do this for?"

Stiles chewed at his lower lip, shrugging. "Well, if we're moving in together, I think a month is probably the bare minimum we can get away with before having some huge breakup about how I leave dishes in the sink and you're emotionally unavailable."

"Don't leave dishes in the sink and maybe I won't be emotionally unavailable." Derek picked up his glass, swallowing the rest of the wine before picking up the bottle and adding more to his glass. He held it toward Stiles. "Would you like more?"

Pushing forward his glass, Stiles nodded. "Is there anything else I need to know about you for this?"

"I'll..." Derek shook his head briefly as he poured more wine into Stiles' glass. "I'll put together a docket. Put one together for me. We need to know at least the basic details about each other, I suppose."

Stiles gulped back his wine suddenly. "We should get this typed up and then print out copies for each of us."

"I'll add in a clause that we can revisit the contract at a later date and adjust it as needed." Derek stood up and moved back over to his desk, taking the notepad with him.

Following Derek, Stiles took a place behind him, watching Derek's fingers as he slowly typed up the document. "Hey, um, I can type a lot faster than that, so... maybe I should be the one doing that?"

Derek turned his head to glare at Stiles, but stood up and moved out of the way. "I typically have people to do that for me anyway."

"Great. Only, I'm not your employee. You know, just in case you started to get that idea." Stiles sat down and started to type, eyes glued to the screen as the words formed. "How are we handling bills? Because I'm going to be living with you, I guess, but I don't really, uh, pay for much of anything right now, I guess? So, I know there's electric bills and groceries and rent and all of that, but I just... How do we handle money?"

Jerking his head up from where he'd been watching Stiles' fingers fly across the keyboard, Derek coughed. "As long as you handle the cooking and cleaning, I'll take care of the bills. I'll arrange a credit card for you to purchase groceries with, but I'll also monitor the purchases."

"Dude, you're lucky I actually know how to cook." Stiles laughed and added more lines to the document. "Is there anything you're allergic to or just won't eat?"

Derek tapped his fingers against the back of the chair Stiles was in. "Brussel sprouts and caraway seeds."

"Is cabbage okay, though?" Stiles looked up, continuing to type as he spoke.

"I don't like boiled cabbage, but I've had it in ways that I've liked before." Pointing to the screen suddenly, Derek said, "The master suite has two closets. We won't need to share."

Stiles made the change quickly. "Okay. Is there anything else I'm missing on here?"

Taking a moment to read everything over, Derek inhaled slowly. "We'll revisit it Thursday evening after we each have an important event, revising as needed."

Nodding, Stiles set it to print two copies, plucking them from the printer tray a moment later. It only took him a moment to collate and staple them, then grab the pen sitting on the desk and sign both copies. He pressed the pen into Derek's hand. "Your turn."

Signing with a flourish, Derek blew across the ink before letting the front page of each fall back down into place. "That's it, then. You have my number. Text me to give me yours and we'll figure everything out from there. I'll be out of town from late tomorrow until Saturday evening, but I'll see to it that the house is prepared before then."

Stiles nodded. "I did tell you that you didn't need to be there for the party thing, huh?" He shook his head. "It's fine. As long as I have keys and your clothes are there, I think I can sell it."

"Good." Derek handed one of the contracts to Stiles. "Don't forget to text me later. I trust you can see yourself out?"

"Uh, yeah." Stiles took the proffered paper, then suddenly stood up and pressed a quick kiss to Derek's lips. "Hmm, okay. I guess I will have to find out what the miracle cream is for beard burn as a reason for why I don't constantly have it."

Derek cleared his throat, licking at his lips, then took a step backward. "I believe Jennifer swore by Cetaphil cleaner and Pond's cold cream."

Stiles nodded. "Okay. I'll go with those if anyone asks." He rolled the contract into a cone and gestured behind him with it. "I'm... I'm gonna go now. But, I'll text. On the way down in the elevator, even." He waved awkwardly as he started to leave the room, pausing at the threshold for a moment to call back, "And, my compliments to the chef! The asparagus was a little underdone, but that was some of the best steak I've ever had." He waved again and left the room.

When a text came through from an unknown number just saying "It's me!" a few moments later, Derek was still rooted in the same spot. It did just enough to rouse him into picking up his copy of the contract and moving it to his personal filing cabinet, his mouth a tense line as he slid it shut. It was only once that was done that he let himself call for room service to pick up the dishes and fell back into his desk chair, cradling his head in his hands for long enough to leave red marks on his temples. He pulled his phone out and programmed in Stiles' number, placing it on his desk and glaring until he remembered that he had the details of the New York branch to look over before he flew out the next day.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been pretty miserably ill the last week or so, or else I would have written this sooner. Feel free to pester me about it on [tumblr](http://superhappygenki.tumblr.com) to ensure I keep up with updating!

"Dad, have you seen that big blue suitcase of ours?" Stiles ran a hand through his hair as he jogged down the stairs, pausing when he got to the bottom to clear his throat. "And I guess I should also let you know that I'm moving out?"

Pausing in the process of taking off his jacket, the Sheriff blinked a few times before laughing. "Finally moving in with Scott and making things official?"

Stiles walked past him and over to the kitchen, opening the oven to glance inside at the baking lasagna. "Nope. Moving in with my new boyfriend." He swallowed roughly and hoped that his dad wouldn't question him too much.

"Boyfriend?! I thought you were still pining for Lydia Martin!" His jacket laying forgotten on the back of the couch, the Sheriff moved into the kitchen to join Stiles, his eyes wide. "And this is seriously all the notice I'm getting?"

Grabbing for the pot holders, Stiles took the lasagna out of the oven and then moved to the freezer, pulling out a box that he started opening. "Look, I'm breaking the news with lasagna and garlic bread. With cheese!" He popped two pieces onto a tray and tossed it into the oven, only leaning back against the counter a moment later after a few deep breaths. "It's kind of a new thing, but it works. Lydia was a long time ago. I thought you'd be happy I was finally getting over her."

"I'm having a beer with dinner," the Sheriff said roughly, rubbing at his forehead. "I'm going to go change real quick and we're going to discuss this like adults over dinner." He paused. "Who's the guy?"

Pulling a bottle of beer from the fridge, Stiles popped it open as he said quietly, "Derek Hale".

The Sheriff let the answer hang in the air for a long moment. "I take it back. I'm having whiskey." He started up the stairs and left Stiles leaning against the counter with an open bottle of beer in his hand. Lifting it up, he shrugged and took a long swig.

* * *

Derek sent the document he'd been working on to print, then stood up, walking quickly over to the couch in the room and laying down with a sigh. He had only had his eyes closed for a moment before Erica walked in, sighing. "Okay, seriously, what's up with you? The closest you've ever let me get to your personal life before was the time you had me order the flowers for your parents' grave and now you want me to oversee getting their estate back in living conditions?"

"I'm headed out of town or else I'd do it myself." Derek groaned. "I'll also need to get someone else a key and access to the security system as well as a credit card for expenditures."

Erica was quiet for a moment. "And how long until all of these things need to be completed?"

Derek echoed her moment of silence. "By Saturday?"

"What the hell, Derek?!" Erica picked up one of the throw pillows on the couch and threw it at his face. "I have a date tonight, you know. And now I have to get all of this set up by tomorrow? Why?"

Picking up the throw pillow, Derek sat up and let it fall to his lap. "My... boyfriend. He's moving in in the morning. The house shouldn't need too much, so most of what you'll need to do is sending someone out to check that all of the electrical and plumbing is functioning. Also, have someone fill the pool. Some of my things need to be taken over there, as well. At least all of this season's clothing and accessories? And you know which toiletries I use." Derek 

Erica sighed deeply. "The only reason I'm going to do this for you, even though it isn't a task as small as you seem to think it is, is that I'm ecstatic that you've actually managed to put yourself out there again. It took long enough. So, who's the lucky guy?"

"Remember how I'd heard there was someone spreading the rumor that I was dating them?" Derek pulled the throw pillow to his chest, squeezing it gently.

"Yeah. Did you go crazy because you didn't want the actual boyfriend to freak out? Because that kind of makes sense." Sitting down next to Derek, Erica grinned. 

Derek squeezed the pillow more tightly. "No. That's the guy. I met him and... It just all came together."

Snorting, Erica tugged the pillow away and hit Derek's shoulder with it. "I'm just going to assume he's amazing in bed. Maybe even imagine it a little after I meet him tomorrow."

"What? No. You don't need to meet him!" Derek swallowed roughly and grabbed for the pillow again, grimacing when Erica put it behind her.

Crossing her legs, Erica lifted a hand in front of her, looking at her nails. "Actually, I do. If you want him keyed to the security system on short notice? I'm the only one who can do it. Don't worry. I'll be gentle! Well, gentle for me." She batted her eyelashes quickly.

Groaning, Derek stood up and moved over to the printer, pulling off the pages of the personal dossier he'd written up and tucking them into a large envelope that he sealed and wrote "STILES" on. "Then, give this to him in the morning. I was going to have it messengered over tonight, but he should be fine getting it tomorrow."

Taking the envelope, Erica tapped her finger against one corner. "A pre-nup already? His dick must be magical."

"Erica..." Derek rubbed his temple and sighed. "Just see to it that he has everything he needs to have his friends over tomorrow. He'll be taking care of food once he has the credit card and he's in charge of his own belongings."

With a quick roll of her eyes, Erica nodded. "I do hope you remember this when it's holiday bonus time."

Derek smirked. "As though you'd let me forget."

"You have an hour before you're due at the airport, by the way. Don't have more than one drink on the plane because your meeting is at 8am and you are horrible when you're hungover." Erica reached out to straighten Derek's tie. "I'm buying a new pair of Louboutin's with your money since I won't have time for good sex tonight and it's all your fault."

"You'll still have a few hours." Derek checked his phone, frowning as he typed in a message, but tucking the phone away again before Erica could pry.

Arching one eyebrow, Erica tucked the envelope under one arm. "I take it back. You still haven't learned about the art of marathon sex, so this Stiles guy can't be too great in bed." She smiled and leaned on the desk to look at him. "Have a good trip, sweetheart."

Derek just waved her off and pulled his phone out again.

* * *

Loading up the last box into the passenger seat of his Jeep the next morning, Stiles made himself take several deep breaths. He'd miraculously gotten sleep the night before, even after the hard sell to his father over dinner that he was totally dating Derek Hale and they would definitely have him over for dinner. Soon. Except for that pesky thing where Derek was out of town. 

He slammed the door shut as he remembered the look on his father's face as he tried to explain why he was moving in while Derek wasn't there. But, he supposed "He just likes to be in control and he can't have that if I'm making a mess," probably sounded too much like something his dad had heard on a domestic violence call. Well, all the more reason for the Sheriff to be happy when he moved back in in a month.

The drive to the preserve took a bit longer than he'd planned on thanks to one of the access roads being closed, but it still left him plenty of time to get things done. Well, maybe. Derek had sent him a text the previous evening explaining that his assistant would be on site to make certain that things went smoothly. And that Stiles would need to complete his own dossier quickly and send it along to the email address that Derek provided. That had likely been the reason he'd managed to sleep. Crafting a document all about himself had let him channel himself into the lie, anchored by his reasons for getting into it in the first place. 

Thankfully, the gate to the estate was already open wide, letting Stiles pull around the circular driveway to park behind a black Mercedes. As he got out of the Jeep, the front door to the estate opened and a blonde woman walked out. "Are you Stiles?"

"Uh, yes?" He lifted one hand and then let it drop back to his side.

"Here's the envelope that Mr. Hale asked me to give to you." She strutted across the front walkway and handed it to him. "Everything is in working order here except for the pool which will be filled shortly. I have a temporary credit card authorized for you that you will get once you fill out the proper paperwork. Now, let's go get you keyed into the security system so that I can actually take the rest of the day off." She started to walk back toward the house. "Well? Hurry up."

Stiles tripped as he started to follow, flailing as he managed to catch his balance and proceed. "There's a pool here?"

Pausing to look back at him, the blonde smirked. "There's an everything here."

"Oh. So, should I look into getting tennis whites or something then? Actually, forget that, what's your name? Derek just called you his assistant."

"I'm Erica," she said loudly while walking forward. "And the tennis whites are optional. It's secluded enough out here that you could play naked if you wanted."

Stiles snorted. "Uh, no. Tennis itself is quite enough balls flying back and forth."

Opening the door to the house and letting Stiles inside, Erica gestured to a panel on the wall. "This is the security system. There's an identical panel by the garage entrance where you'll park that thing you drive." She pressed her index finger against a small black square, waited until it beeped, then pressed her middle finger against it. "It works by fingerprints and requires two. We'll map all of your fingers so you'll still have access just in case you sustain an injury." She tapped a series of buttons, then gestured to the black square. "Place a finger against the square and hold it until the little light here turns green. Then put a different finger there. Repeat until you've done them all." She waited until Stiles had started before crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the wall. "So, how did the two of you meet?"

Stiles looked up from where he was watching his finger. "Oh, uh, didn't Derek tell you?"

"He said he'd gotten together with the guy lying about dating him and that you were moving in. Just wondering how you went from point A to point B so quickly." Erica smirked. "Switch fingers."

"He actually approached me in the restaurant at the hotel. We just figured things out from there. It's been... It's been a whirlwind." Stiles looked back to the black square, gritting his teeth at the idea that there was now one more version of the lie to keep up. "He's going along with what I said initially though so it doesn't sound so weird. I said I ran into him running and gave him a Band-aid when he scraped his knee."

"And why are you moving in today instead of waiting until tomorrow when he's back? I hope you're not intending to be his kept boy." Erica's lips tightened together.

Finishing off the first hand, Stiles moved on to the second one. "I was excited about moving in and figured I could have the party to introduce my friends to the idea of me actually living here while Derek's out of town so he doesn't have to deal with them. He... he doesn't seem like the type to actually, y'know, like people."

Erica's eyes narrowed, but her smile returned. "Don't worry about cost when you're grocery shopping, by the way. Derek's rich. Buying the steaks that aren't on sale isn't going to bother him." She patted his shoulder when the light came on the last time, then nudged him out of the way and finished tapping buttons. "Okay. Let's head into the kitchen area and do paperwork and I'll give you keys, the credit card, and one of the openers for the garage door."

By the time Erica left, Stiles felt a little shell-shocked, but he had everything he needed to sell the lie. It took a while to get his own things brought inside and put away, and a while longer to walk around the house and grounds to start to familiarize himself with them. He'd arranged the party with Jackson after leaving Derek's office with contract in hand, but it was very difficult to be glad of it when his palms were sweaty with nervousness. With only a few hours left before the party, he headed to the store. First on the list, Cetaphil cleaner and Pond's cold cream. He could leave them in the bathroom and then potentially never have to mention beard burn. After that, all of the staples from bread, eggs, and milk to roughly half of the baking aisle. He splurged on good coffee for the espresso machine he'd seen in the kitchen, gotten all organic fruits and vegetables, and had spent more on steak than he'd ever consider paying in a restaurant. The way the steaks were packaged, he'd have two extra, but he could always freeze them for Derek and him to have at a later date.

Back at the Hale estate, Stiles took the twenty minutes required to learn which remote control did what in the living room, then wrapped up in aluminum foil a number of the potatoes he'd purchased and tossed them in one of the wall ovens to bake, figuring he'd make his mother's baked potato soup with the leftovers. He threw together brownies that he set to bake in the other wall oven, then retreated to the master suite to get changed. He knew it wasn't where he'd end up sleeping, but he couldn't help but look at the gigantic bed and imagine cuddling up with someone in it. Dressed in a polo and khakis, he retreated back to the kitchen and prepared the salad.

When he heard the first car pull into the driveway, Stiles turned on the stove to start heating the grill pan he'd found in one of the cupboards, then moved to the doorway to open it. Of course it was Jackson with his Porsche... and Lydia sitting in the passenger seat. "Hey, guys!" By the time, Lydia got her things out of the car, a blue BMW pulled up that Danny, Greenberg, and Boyd got out of. "Is that everyone?"

Jackson made a show of putting his arm around Lydia as they walked up to the door. "Unless you're expecting someone else? I have to say, I do wish we could have had another woman or two here so Lydia wouldn't be bored."

Stiles smiled. "How awful that she finds you boring. Come on in, everyone. There's a coatrack to your right." He couldn't help the flutter in his stomach when Lydia smirked.

Greenberg was hanging up his blazer as he looked around, frowning. "I thought you were living in the place that was featured in the magazine."

"Yeah, well, that's in Sacramento and the drive was crazy for me. Since this is a little closer between where Derek and I each work, we decided to move in here instead. I'm sure I can take you by the other place at some point, but Derek's really busy right now." Stiles was glad he'd taken the time to formulate that lie earlier.

Lydia looked around, her lips moving as she muttered something to herself. She looked up a moment later. "You should show us Derek's wardrobe. He's been in GQ. It's got to be fabulous."

"Sure." Stiles pointed toward where the bedrooms were, then realized he needed to lead the way. "He's only got some of his things here now, but we just moved in. It's why there was kind of a rush to put this thing together. I was just excited to have Derek back in Beacon Hills." He opened the door to the bedroom and pointed to Derek's closet. "There you go."

Only Danny and Lydia made a point of going in immediately, though Greenberg and Boyd slowly sidled their way over. Jackson stayed back near the doorway. "So, Stilinski, is there a reason we couldn't have dinner here when Derek was going to be around? I mean, that seems a little strange. You'll introduce your friends to your new house, but not the guy you're with."

Stiles laughed. "Right. My new house. Except it's an old house just rebuilt and it's Derek's house because I'm just on his credit account, not his deed or whatever and... He's out of town anyway."

"Right." Jackson grinned. "You sure you're not doing anything illegal that Daddy wouldn't want to know about?"

Stiles swallowed, and was happy when Danny came out into to the room a moment later holding a watch. "Here. You have to wear this. I can't allow you to wander around in a place like this without a Rolex on."

"It's..." Stiles shook his head. "That's Derek's watch."

Lydia smirked. "And it'll fit you. Wear it!"

Taking it in hand, Stiles slid it on, amazed at how well it was sized. "I guess it do- Huh?" His eyes narrowed at the sound of the doorbell and he dashed toward the front door, his stomach twisting into knots. When he opened the door, however, he froze. "Derek?"

Eyebrows raising, Derek picked up Stiles' hand. "What are you doing wearing my watch?"

"Lydia and Danny said I should wear it," Stiles said, fingers curling around Derek's wrist for a moment before pulling his arm away. "I didn't..."

"Take it off." Derek started to dig into his bag as Stiles pulled off the Rolex, letting it sit in his hand. Derek took it away a moment later and pressed a box there instead. "Wear that."

"Huh?" Stiles opened the box to find a different watch inside. "This is..."

"A Tag Heuer. It's a little more your style than a Rolex, don't you think?" Derek grinned. "Sorry about ringing the doorbell. I forgot my keys, but since I knew you'd be here... I took a chance."

Stiles looked back at his friends and forced a smile, hoping his looked at least a bit more real than Jackson's. "Well, I guess it's a good thing I bought extra steak!"


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try not to take this long on the next chapter. -_- Being sick has been killing me even though it's just a cough left, and I do find it a lot more difficult to write fic when the canon is airing! But, feel free to bug me about it on my [tumblr](http://superhappygenki.tumblr.com)!

Derek looked up from Stiles to the faces of Stiles' friends. "Hello, everyone." He forced himself to smile, still wondering why he'd gone through the hassle of switching to an earlier flight when his meeting wrapped up early. "I hope Stiles is being a good host. I'm sorry I wasn't here earlier, I wasn't certain I could get away in time to make it back so I told him I wouldn't be here."

The only woman in the room smiled sweetly, her red curls falling forward over her shoulder as she tilted her head. "Well, you could have called. Anyway, we only got here a little bit ago." She held out her hand which Derek shook almost mechanically. "I'm Lydia." She gestured around to everyone else as she continued to speak. "This is my husband, Jackson, and that's Boyd, Danny, and Greenberg. Obviously, you already know Stiles. But, how did you guys meet?"

"I was out here in the preserve, running." Derek moved closer to Stiles, sliding an arm around his shoulder and smiling. "Stiles was going in the opposite direction while listening to music and elbowed me which made me trip and scrape my knee. Thankfully, he had a bandage. I take it he gets himself into trouble a lot."

Stiles put on the watch and looked away. "Well, it's not like you've never gotten yourself into trouble." He looked up and grinned suddenly, letting his own arm wrap around Derek and holding him almost uncomfortably tight. "So, all I have left to do for dinner is to grill up the steaks, so it you guys will just tell me how you want them, I'll go get to work while you chat with Derek. Is that okay, babe?"

Raising one eyebrow, Derek nodded. "I told you not to call me babe. But, you know how I like my steak already."

Grinning, Stiles gripped his shoulder. "You told me not to call you dude. Fine, not babe, either. So, steak? Everyone?"

There was a brief moment as everyone gave their preference, then Stiles pulled away and headed toward the kitchen. Lydia almost immediately slipped her arm through Derek's. "So, Stilinski. Really?"

Derek shook her arm loose, gesturing toward the living room with a scowl. "Yes. Are you really questioning that?"

Pursing her lips, she shook her head. "No. You just seem like you have high standards."

Looking Lydia over once, Derek smirked. "I do." He waited until everyone was seated before giving them all a smile. "It seems that Stiles hasn't yet figured out where the wine cellar is, so I'm going to go bring up a few bottles." Before anyone could protest, he left the room, heading into the kitchen where Stiles was flipping over the steaks. "Stiles."

Holding up one finger, Stiles flipped one last steak, then looked up at Derek. "Hey. What's up?"

"You were seriously in love with her?" Derek held up his hand, his own mouth hanging open for a moment. "Just... She doesn't seem like a very nice person."

Stiles shrugged, fingers tapping along the edge of the countertop. "Nice... isn't exactly one of those things I'm really into?" He shrugged again, turning back toward the steak on the grill pan. "I don't know, man. Maybe she was different back then. As it is, this thing didn't start because of her. It started because of Jackson. He's the one who was my friend... and then decided that didn't matter."

"Do you have a type of wine you prefer?" Derek gestured to a door off from the kitchen. "I'm going to head to the wine cellar to grab a few bottles."

"You, uh..." Stiles grinned. "I'm sure you have better taste in wine than I do. I know reds go with beef, and that's about as good as you're going to get out of me."

With a quick nod, Derek headed down and grabbed two bottles of red wine and brought them upstairs, setting them on the counter as Stiles pulled the last steak off of the grill pan and digging around in the drawers for a corkscrew. "I'm going to start teaching you about wine. It's a good thing to know."

Stiles snorted. "I'm more of an import beer kind of guy, really." He began unwrapping baked potatoes from their foil and piling them on a platter. "Weren't you supposed to be mingling with my friends?"

Derek looked up from opening the first bottle. "Are you saying you think that a little alcohol isn't going to make this night go a lot better?"

"Yeah, well..." Stiles coughed. "Just go tell them dinner's almost ready and get them in the dining room?"

Stepping back into the living room, Derek cleared his throat. "If you'll follow me to the dining room, everyone." He carried the bottle of wine with him, pulling down glasses to place on the table before filling them halfway with a flourish and setting the bottle on the table. "If we'd had a bit more time to wait, I would have grabbed something different, but a Beujolais Morgon should go nicely at this temperature."

Boyd was the first to take a sip of his, nodding as he swallowed. "I don't know much about wine, but I like that."

Jackson was too busy putting his arm around Lydia to comment while Greenberg seemed to be far more focused on the room itself. Derek looked up as Stiles walked through the doorway holding a platter full of the steaks. "Does anyone need anything other than what's on the table?" He catalogued the already dressed salad, the potatoes with dishes of butter and sour cream, the salt and pepper, and finally the steak that Stiles slid in front of him, and shook his head.

"It looks good, Stiles. But, you were always a good cook." Lydia smiled as she spoke, leaning against Jackson's arm around her shoulders. "What were those cookies you always used to make for me?"

"Kolaczki." Stiles smiled, but Derek could tell by the set of his jaw that it was forced. "Okay, steak! The one here is Boyd's because he likes it to moo, this flat tire is Greenberg's, the three mediums here to Lydia, Jackson, and Danny, and these..." The tension faded as Stiles turned to him. "These are for us." He cleared his throat as he plated up his own steak, then Derek's. "I hope I cooked them right?"

Derek cut into his steak, nodding a moment later. "It looks perfect." He took salad and a baked potato that he cut open to fill with plenty of butter, then sat back and lifted his glass of wine. "I'd like to make a toast." He waited until everyone else held their glass aloft, then looked over at Stiles as he spoke. "To Stiles who has made my life so much more interesting just by being in it."

Stiles tapped his glass against Derek's. "Cheers." He drank back half of his glass of wine in one gulp, then smirked. "So, maybe we can get Derek to show us around after dinner? I would, but I got kind of distracted the first time through so I barely remember where anything is. Like, I know we have a tennis court? But I don't even remember how to get there."

"It's just a tennis court. I don't think we need to show them that, dear." Derek stabbed his steak with a bit more fervor than he intended. "If they saw my closet, they saw our bedroom which is where you do most of your working out."

Danny laughed suddenly, a forkful of salad dripping vinaigrette in front of him. "Okay, I wasn't really sure about you guys, but I get it now. You guys have this banter thing... Stiles was always into banter."

Jackson leaned forward slightly. "Yeah, Stiles into Derek is something I get. I just don't get how it goes both ways."

Boyd glared at Jackson, but didn't say anything, leaving Derek to deal with the sudden silence in the room. He looked over at Stiles who had set his silverware down, looking for all the world like he was about to bolt. Making a split-second decision, Derek pulled Stiles into his arms, holding him tightly and turning his head to glare at both Jackson and Lydia. "What I really don't get is why the two of you are even here. If all you're here for is to try to make fun of Stiles, then it's a dick move and not even a very good one. Stiles is good at his job, a respected citizen, and he's amazing everywhere it counts. You keep acting like somehow I'm lowering myself to be with him, but even my uncle tried to flirt with him before he knew we were together. I don't know why you think you can get away with acting like you're better than him, though, because you're not. Joking between friends is one thing, but you've gone pretty far past that."

The way Lydia's mouth hung open after Derek finally managed to shut himself up was nearly as unattractive as the way Jackson's face looked with all of his muscles tensed. Danny, however, started clapping. He only stopped when Jackson turned his glare toward him. "What?" Danny nudged at his potato with his fork, shrugging. "Even when we met up last week, you were bragging about your life even though you normally complain about it. I get that you were always jealous of Stiles, but the fact that you're still acting like this toward him kind of makes you an asshole."

Stiles let out a soft burst of laughter against Derek's shoulder. "Jealous? Of me? Why the hell would Jackson ever be jealous of me?"

Taking a long sip of his wine, Jackson looked down at his plate. "Because you were never worried about how you looked or how the things you did looked, but you still had friends and did well in school and had a father who adored you, okay?" He ran a hand through his hair suddenly, visibly frustrated. "I'm sorry. I just... It was hard to be your friend and not recognize that you had everything I wanted."

"Even Lydia?" Stiles laughed again, starting to push Derek away. "Dude, I wouldn't have had a problem with you saying you liked Lydia and doing something about it. She's allowed to make her own choices. But, telling me over and over again that you didn't like her and of course I had a chance only to find out you were dating her? That was such a dick move!" Stiles rubbed at his forehead with the side of his hand, shaking his head. "More than anyone, you knew exactly how I felt about her, and you still lied to me instead of just manning up and saying you liked her, too." He looked between Boyd, Greenberg, and Danny and sighed. "And I'm sorry you guys are here to witness this. Free show with dinner?"

Greenberg shook his head. "It's okay. I mean, it's not okay since it's not really a show I'd pay for, but since the dinner's free, too? This _is_ really good wine."

Lydia turned to glare at Jackson suddenly. "You told me that Stiles was just trying to use me to get an in with my family for his father's election campaign. It's what you said he did with your family." She turned back to Stiles, her anger turning to something else. "Stiles, I'm sorry, too. I didn't know. Really. I mean, I knew you liked me, but Jackson... Ugh, why did I ever believe him?" She stood up suddenly and looked around, her lips trembling. "Jackson, maybe Danny can give you a ride home. To his place. I can't deal with this right now, so I'm taking the car." She waggled her fingers toward Derek. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Derek, even if the circumstances weren't... Well, even though this night has sucked." She turned around and stalked off through the house. 

No one spoke until they could hear the door close behind Lydia. Derek let himself finally let go of Stiles entirely and turned back to his mostly eaten meal. "I think Stiles will understand if the rest of you want to leave, as well."

Danny shrugged. "I want to finish my meal, at least."

Stiles grinned. "There are brownies for dessert, too. Jackson? They're those ones I used to make for us when we were studying."

Jackson nodded slowly before reaching for the wine bottle and refilling his glass. "Thanks. That's... that's more than I deserve, I guess."

"You're a dick, Jackson. But I think Stiles is kind of into that." Boyd cut out a chunk of his potato and popped it into his mouth, shrugging.

Derek leaned close to Stiles' ear, whispering, "Do you want me to kick them out?"

Stiles shook his head, turning to whisper back to Derek, "Nah. But, I don't suppose you've got something for us to do to take our minds off of, well, this?"

Pulling away, Derek drummed his thumb against the table for a moment. "We do have a few bowling lanes set up in the basement if you would all like to play."

"We can go bowling without leaving the house?!" Stiles laughed suddenly and Derek felt himself smile at the sound, then forced his expression back to neutrality as he ate the last bite of his steak.

Greenberg lifted one of his hands as he said tentatively, "Can we still go on that tour?"

Derek lifted his own wine and finished it off with a flourish of the glass. "A quick one, certainly. And I believe I have a good bottle of Scotch or two we can get into later, as well."

Boyd nodded as he finished chewing something. "I like you, man. Bowling and good Scotch? That's my kind of night."

Things were relatively silent as they finished dinner, Derek slapping Stiles' wrist when he tried to say something about sending Derek off to give the tour while Stiles did the dishes, but he was eventually able to lead them through the house and point out where they'd converted most of the bedrooms into studies and media rooms and anything else that wasn't a bedroom so it wouldn't remind them of just how many of them might never be used again. "Stiles told me that people think this place is haunted. I... I wasn't really certain I wanted to come back here because, for me, it is a haunted house. But, maybe not all ghosts are ones we're meant to want to get rid of."

Stiles grabbed his hand for a moment as they headed down to the basement level where the bowling lanes were, squeezing in a way that felt reassuring... and seemed to be exactly the thing Derek needed. "Come on. You promised Scotch and bowling and... holy shit. Is that a theater?"

Eyes narrowing, Derek looked over at the open doors revealing rows of seats and a screen above a stage. "I suppose it was retrofitted for that since the last time I was here. There's a stage there where my family used to put on performances. Or do karaoke." He paused at the look Danny gave him. "My Uncle Peter's idea. He never met a spectacle he didn't want to be at the center of."

Stiles snorted. "Really? I couldn't possibly imagine that." He jogged forward to where a bar was set up along one wall, slapping his hand against it. "Barkeep? I need Scotch! Uh, on the rocks."

Boyd joined him a moment later and let out a soft snort of laughter. "I'll take mine straight."

Danny rolled his eyes. "With a little water."

Jackson was silent, but joined them in looking expectantly at Derek until he grabbed tumblers and filled them, gesturing to the wall to their right afterward. "That's where the balls and shoes are. Go pick things out while I get everything going."

It didn't take long to get the machines going, finding himself staring a bit too long as the pins set up before shaking himself out of it as Stiles came over brandishing a bright orange ball. Derek went to work on inputting their names for the roster, then got up to get his own shoes, pulling them on before grabbing the dark blue ball he'd always used. He took a slow sip of his Scotch just to feel the burn, then pointed to the screen. "Boyd and Jackson, you guys are up."

The didn't talk about anything important as they bowled the first game, touching on work and how much Stiles loved the Mets and how Greenberg wanted to take pictures of the crown molding, but the second game... as they finished off the bottle of Scotch... had them all getting maudlin. Danny was the most chipper of them all, and even he ended up discussing how his mother had never seemed to get over the fact that he'd been born with a defect to his cartilage that had been easily fixed with two surgeries. They weren't competing much with the bowling itself, though Jackson and Boyd had a brief run of strikes that made everyone else look bad, and Stiles managed to get nothing but gutterballs in the second game until the final frame of three strikes in a row. There was talk of starting a third game, but it was quickly abandoned when Greenberg puked.

Stiles was the one to wave his hand at Derek and open his eyes wide, the light hitting them in a way that made them look too much like the Scotch they'd downed, and ask, "Hey, should we just let them stay over instead of driving?"

And Derek, like an idiot, agreed. It shouldn't have mattered, really, except that the dishes hadn't been done, Greenberg had half-assed cleaning up after himself, and Danny had given Stiles such a strange look when he'd tried to head past the master suite that they were now in the master bathroom together brushing their teeth. "I wasn't thinking, dude. I'm sorry!" Stiles managed to get a streak of toothpaste across his cheek as he spoke.

Sighing, Derek rinsed his own brush and glared at Stiles' reflection. "I told you not to call me dude. And I really didn't expect to be forced to sleep with you the first night we lived together."

Stiles paused, his toothbrush millimeters from his lips, to turn to Derek. "Does that mean you were expecting it later?" 

What? No! I just-" Derek frowned. "I'm taking the left side of the bed."

Rinsing his toothbrush, Stiles smiled suddenly. "You're not making me take the floor? Dude, I totally picked the best guy out of the magazine." He leaned forward suddenly, and then Stiles was kissing him softly, reeking of the mint of his toothpaste still smudged on his face, and making a fist in the fabric of Derek's pajamas, pulling him closer until Derek had no choice but to drop his toothbrush and let his own hands slide up Stiles' back as he deepened the kiss, his tongue seemingly deciding of its own volition to test that Stiles had brushed every one of his pearly whites and his tongue. 

Stiles let Derek's shirt go suddenly, patting Derek's chest as he pulled away and grinned, yawning before moving through to the bedroom and collapsing on the lefthand side and falling asleep almost immediately after kicking his way under the covers. Derek held out a hand toward the bed, mouth moving as if to say something, anything, but in the end he just crawled into the bed on the right side and turned off the light, telling himself that a drunken mini-makeout session meant absolutely nothing under the circumstances. The barely-there ache of his jaw didn't quite seem to echo the sentiment, but the gentle sensation of calm within him made it far easier than normal to fall asleep, even if the sight of the pale column of Stiles' neck in the moonlight might have been the source of that calm.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this has taken so long. I've been hit with some tremendous writer's apathy where I know exactly what I want to write, but I just can't quite get myself to sit down and do it. I'm still learning how to deal with the mood swings that go along with my MS, and I think this might actually just be a part of it, so I'm working to try to manage this in the future.

"Why the fuck is there construction going on outside?" Stiles asked as he rubbed a hand over his face, then sat up suddenly at the feel of an arm tightening around his waist. "Uh..." 

Derek groaned and released the arm, his brow furrowing as he backed away suddenly. "There's no construction. What are you talking about?"

Sighing, Stiles kicked the covers off of his feet and forced himself to stand. "So all of the pounding is just in my head. Any idea where the Tylenol is in this place?"

"In the kitchen." Derek cleared his throat and stood up, heading toward the door. "I'll go get coffee started." 

Stiles ended up following Derek, only remembering that they had house guests when he caught the scent of bacon. "Dude, someone is cooking and I have a feeling I'm going to love them for it." He pushed past Derek and headed into the kitchen with a grin that dropped when he saw Jackson standing at the stove. "Oh, hey."

Jackson held up a spatula in reply. "Uh, hey. I figured I'd make breakfast for everyone to kind of make up for what happened yesterday. You had the stuff for breakfast burritos, so that's what I made." He looked to Derek. "Does that work for you?"

Derek nodded and headed to the coffee maker, quickly finding everything he needed to keep it going. "Did we have avocado?"

"Yeah," Stiles said while moving toward the counter. "Hey, uh, Tylenol? I could use about six."

Opening up another cupboard, Derek pulled out the bottle and handed it over. "Here. Leave the bottle out for whoever wants any?"

At the stove, Jackson cleared his throat. "Listen, uh, I am sorry about everything that's happened. I'm a dick. You know that. But, we were good friends before, and I think we could be friends again."

Pouring a few capsules into his palm, Stiles nodded. "Yeah. I think... I think we could try?" He shrugged one shoulder and moved to grab a glass from the cupboard, filling it from the tap and taking the medicine with a grimace. "Hey, I'm gonna go wake up everyone else. So, just, uh..." Stiles held up a finger and pointed it toward Derek as he looked between the two other men. "Just make sure there's coffee left when I get back in here." He walked off, leaving Derek hitting buttons on the coffee maker.

Jackson cooked scrambled eggs silently for a moment, but then looked back over his shoulder at Derek. "I don't buy it, you know." He shot a glance toward where Stiles had just left. "You and him? There's no way. I'm not sure what your deal is, but it's not what you say it is, and I'm going to find out the truth." He smirked. "Stilinski's a great guy, sure, but you and him? Nah."

Before Derek could respond, Boyd walked into the kitchen with his arms above his head, stretching. "Yes, coffee. And pain meds. Remind me next time that Scotch is meant to be sipped, would you?"

Greenberg followed, running a hand through his hair that did hardly anything to calm the mess. "Hey, if you can't get plastered with friends, who can you get plastered with?" He moved over to Jackson and wrapped his arms around him from behind. "And you're making breakfast so I'm obligated to offer you my first born."

Danny entered the kitchen with Stiles on his heels. "Greenberg, I think you need to give yourself all of the reasons not to reproduce." He slapped a hand on Stiles' shoulder as the other man started to head toward the coffee, then furrowed his brow. "Hey, uh, Stiles? What's wrong with your neck?"

Bringing a hand up to touch as he looked back at Danny, Stiles raised an eyebrow. "Uh, I don't know? Do I have something on me? It kind of itches."

Moving Stiles' hand out of the way, Danny looked at his neck carefully for a moment before pulling back with a wide grin. "I think you had Derek's face all over you last night."

Feeling his lips come together in a tight line, Derek watched as Stiles covered his eyes for a moment before making a beeline toward the coffee. "He's got a cream for that, at least?"

Jackson transferred the scrambled eggs he'd made into a bowl and cleared his throat. "Okay, everyone make your own damn burritos. All of the stuff you need is right here on the counter."

Stiles drank down a quarter of his coffee in one solid swallow, wincing at the burn, before waving his hand at his friends. "You guys go first. I'm going to go rub cold cream all over my neck first." 

Laughing, Danny grabbed for his plate. "You should get Derek to help you so you don't just rub it everywhere."

With a nod, Stiles put his coffee down and grabbed Derek's wrist, dragging him with him. "Good idea!" He dragged Derek with him until they were in the bedroom, closing the door calmly before turning to Derek and frowning. "What the hell did you do to me last night?"

"Like I know! I was asleep, Stiles." Derek moved to the en suite bathroom, finding the jar of cold cream and opening it with a grimace. "Come here and let me rub this on you."

Snorting, Stiles moved beside him, then turned his back to Derek. "I'm pretty sure that's what you must have said in your sleep last night, then. How bad is it, really?"

Dipping two fingers into the cold cream, Derek cleared his throat. "It's... not horrible. But, it does look like you got into a fight with sandpaper and only barely won." He pressed his fingers against the nape of Stiles' neck, grinning at the shiver it caused, then began to smooth the cream across the beard burn that stretched down into where his shirt collar was.

"When they named that stuff cold cream, they got it right on the money." Stiles trembled with another shiver, but allowed Derek to decide when he was done. "So, um, do you think they bought it?"

Licking his lips and letting his eyes twitch to the side to catch Stiles' gaze in the mirror, Derek shrugged one shoulder. "I think everyone but Jackson bought it?"

With a sigh, Stiles turned toward Derek suddenly, Derek's fingers dragging along his neck in the process. "What makes you say that?"

"Because he said so." Derek pulled his hand away, not quite meeting Stiles' eyes as he started to wash his hands.

"He..." Stiles picked up a towel from the rack, twisting it tightly between his hands. "You've got to do better, especially if you want me to reciprocate here in a few days." He handed the towel to Derek to dry his hands off with, then took a deep breath, breathing it back out slowly. "Let's go have food made by the guy trying to make my life miserable."

Derek dropped the towel back on the counter. "Is it at least better than if I were the one making your life miserable?"

Stiles let out a mirthless laugh. "I'm still not entirely certain that you're not." He forced a smile and left the room, making Derek race to follow. 

As they got to the doorway of the kitchen, Derek reached up to touch Stiles' neck again, smiling softly before looking up and schooling his features again into something professional. "There. Taken care of." He let his fingers linger on Stiles for a moment longer. "Your stomach grumbled when we were in there. Go make your burrito."

Picking up a plate and starting to load up the large tortilla on top, Stiles grinned. "Does that mean I get to have the rest of the bacon?"

Boyd piped up before Derek could answer, "Hell no, Stilinski!"

Derek shrugged. "You heard the man. Restrain your bacon love just this once."

"I guess I can restrain my bacon love. But, just so you know, there's no restraining my love for sausage." Stiles looked Derek up and down in a way that made Derek shiver. "And, if you could, make more coffee? A single pot doesn't go far with 6 people. Unless you feel like firing up the espresso machine and making a latte for me?"

Groaning, Derek stalked over to the fridge and got out the milk before moving over to the espresso machine. "You know, you're the one who looks like he should be a barista."

"Are you seriously making me a latte?" Stiles moved closer and pressed a quick kiss to Derek's cheek. "I'll make your burrito, then. I know you want lots of avocado, but is there anything you don't want?"

"No hot sauce. But, lots of the pico de gallo." Derek worked on making the espresso, then turned to the other men sitting at the bar area in the kitchen. "I'm not your barista, so don't get ideas about me doing this for anyone but Stiles. You can make your own lattes if you want them."

Greenberg nodded, his burrito dropping filling all over his plate as he did so. "I'll take five bucks to make one for whoever else wants one."

Looking between Stiles and Derek, Jackson pursed his lips. "How is business going anyway, Hale? Surely hotels aren't making as much money in this economy."

Refusing to look up as he steamed the milk, Derek shook his head. "No. The type of people who frequent our hotels don't seem to have been hit much by the recession. Perhaps there are other businesses that aren't doing as well." He glanced over to Stiles. "How's marketing?"

"Uh..." Stiles froze with a string of shredded cheese clinging to his lip from where he'd eaten a pinch of it. "It's okay? At the very least, I'm not getting paid any less, so... Yeah." He smiled. "You'd probably know better than me since you're the one trying to hire my company."

Boyd raised an eyebrow as he sipped his coffee. "Was this something that happened before or after you got together?"

Carefully pouring the steamed milk into the espresso, Derek shrugged. "The plans were in place long before that. And we still haven't completely decided. Stiles shouldn't be what makes me choose one way or the other."

Holding up a piece of bacon, Danny grinned. "So, basically the world had plans for you to meet. That's kind of cute." He bit into the bacon, smirking as he chewed.

"It'd be cuter if he'd actually gotten together with a barista. But, I guess that wouldn't come with all of these perks." Greenberg sighed. "Okay, this has been great, but I've got stuff to do today. Stiles, give me a call and we'll do lunch sometime soon, okay?"

Stiles nodded. "Of course, man. I'm busy this week, but I might be able to do something next week. I'll text you Monday and we'll figure it out." He slid a finished burrito over to Derek and picked up the finished latte. "A leaf? Wow. How original." He pouted. "But, seriously, thanks. Coffee is a must when I've got a hangover." He picked it up and moved close enough to Derek to touch their hips together, then moved over to the bar to sit down where Greenberg had vacated.

Boyd finished up his food and made similar apologies a moment later, leaving with his own waves and words of wanting to get together again soon. It left the four men sitting at the breakfast bar in silence.

Danny was the one who tapped at his coffee mug and said with a grin, "So, I guess the walls in this place must be pretty thick if we didn't hear you guys last night."

Frozen with his coffee mug against his low lip, Stiles sputtered and ended up spilling a bit of latte across his chin. "Oh, gross." He wiped at it with his shirt, then glared at Danny. "Yes, the walls are very thick. But, you didn't hear us because we didn't really do anything because I was too drunk to get it up." He rubbed at his temple with the heel of his hand. "Seriously, Danny, your interest in our sex life is appreciated but still kind of weird."

"It kind of is." Jackson pursed his lips and leaned closer. "But, really, the idea that you top? That's kind of funny."

Derek took a deep breath before turning to Jackson. "Not that it's any of your business, but we switch off. Have you seen his hips? And that mouth? There are certain things I'm not stupid enough to say no to. But what I can say is that you're beginning to overstay your welcome and perhaps your friend should drive you home."

Jackson stood up, his jaw tense, and nodded. "Yeah, it's probably a good thing if we go, Danny. I just bet Stiles needs to drop to his knees to pay for that coffee."

Stiles cleared his throat. "Jackson, if you're wanting to insinuate that Derek only keeps me around for my mouth, can I just point out that you own relationship is failing because of your mouth?" He shrugged. "We'll talk later this week and see if you can grow up before then." He reached out to pat Danny's shoulder. "And you? You and I should talk more soon, but not about sex. I'm far more interested in what you're up to at work, but you're Jackson's ride and I don't want him to have to walk just because I want to catch up more with you."

"You got it." Danny stood up and pulled Jackson with him. "See you later, Stiles. And, Derek? Nice to meet you."

Soon enough, they were alone, finishing off their breakfast and staring at various things in the kitchen that weren't each other. Stiles finished his breakfast and began to gather all of the dishes together, moving them toward the sink. "So, um, what are your plans for today?" 

Derek shrugged one shoulder and tapped his fingers lightly against the countertop. "I don't know. I'd planned to be traveling today, but Erica pointed out that it was an asshole move not be there for you yesterday, and since we're lying to everyone? It just seemed easier to try to fix things."

Filling the pan Jackson had used for the eggs with water, Stiles grinned. "Well, she certainly seems like the type who'd be able to keep you in line. It's nice to know that's the truth. But, really, thanks for coming back. I think I probably could have sold it alone, but it would still look weird. And Jackson... I think he's a dick, but he's still kind of the Paris Hilton to my Nicole Richie."

"I doubt he's that much of a philanthropist." Derek coughed. "Would you like me to bring in the dishes from the dining room?"

Groaning, Stiles' lip curled. "Shit, I forgot we never got around to cleaning last night. I can... Uh, yeah. If you don't mind, that is." 

"I wouldn't offer if I minded." Derek gathered the dishes from the other room in a few trips, his nose wrinkling at the scent of the salad dressing mingling with the last few lettuce leaves in the bowl. He let himself move over to the espresso machine, cleaning it himself before making a fresh cappuccino. He sat with it at the bar, sipping carefully as Stiles loaded the dishwasher. "Do you not have other friends who are worth more of your time than Jackson?"

Stiles let a fork drop into the silverware basket with a loud clang. "I do. But, my friend Scott is all tangled up in his own relationship right now and... He's pretty much all I have. I've got friends from work, but they're the ones you never want to see all of your warts, you know?"

Derek nodded. "I do. You want to maintain a certain professional image there so that they respect and trust you. I..." Derek laughed. "You have friends. I have work." 

Wiping off his hands, Stiles moved to the other side of the counter from Derek, leaning on it to look at him over the bar. "Hey, you know what? You've got me. When this is all over, we're going to be friends. Y'know, you stood up for me a couple of times in the last 24 hours that I didn't expect. And I couldn't really say anything then, but I really appreciated that. The fact that you can lie convincingly enough to even make me believe you'd sleep with me? That's impressive."

"That's not..." Derek took a deep breath. "You're not unattractive. And while I never would have tried to pick you up in a bar or anything, I'm not uncomfortable with the idea of sleeping with you."

"Really?" Stiles laughed. "'Cause, if I'm honest, if I'd seen you in a bar, I probably would have tried to pick you up. Well, if I didn't know who you were. But, I do, so I probably would have sent you a drink anonymously and then just watched you drink it."

Derek froze mid-sip, then pulled his cup down, licking at the milk foam on his upper lip. "So, do you feel prepared to be seen with me in front of cameras in a few days?"

Stiles closed the dishwasher while biting his lower lip. "Uh, maybe? We... I think maybe we need some more practice faking in front of people."

"Let's go out, then." Derek put his cup down and folded his hands together. "It's been a while since I've seen Beacon Hills properly. How about we go take a look around so I can see what's new?"

"Deal." Stiles smiled. "And maybe later we can actually go for a run around the preserve? It's a nice run, and if I don't do things to get out my energy, I'll never sleep."

Derek nodded. "Yeah. That sounds good. So, go shower in one of the guest bathrooms and change and I'll meet you back out here in thirty minutes or so. We'll start uptown and work our way back down."

"I don't suppose you feel like stopping by the sheriff's station? I just... I'm used to seeing my dad every day, and he does want to meet you, so I figured that would take care of two things at once, although he'll likely want to come over here at some point, too, but you'll at least know him a bit by then so it wouldn't be as awkward and-"

"Stiles." Derek nodded once. "Sure, we can do that."

Nodding back, Stiles gestured toward the bedrooms. "I'm just going to go and shower, then. And then... Hey, do you want to take that sweet Camaro I saw in the garage?"

"It was Laura's." Derek rubbed roughly at the back of his neck. "But, yeah. We can take that."

"Good." Stiles nodded slowly as he backed out of the kitchen. "And I'll remember not to wear a t-shirt. Rules. I got 'em."

Standing up, Derek pushed past Stiles and headed to the master bedroom. "I certainly hope so, Stiles."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to apologize for this chapter taking so long. I had to send my laptop off for repairs to the casing, and when I got it back, the operating system (Win8) no longer wanted to work. Sending it back again didn't fix it. But, new operating system (being brave and trying the Win10 tech preview) and computer back, so now I'm getting back to writing and I promise the wait will not be anywhere near this long again. -_-

After a quick clean of the kitchen and themselves, as well as getting dressed with their backs turned to one another, Derek and Stiles locked up the house and headed out to the garage. When Derek picked up a set of keys from a board of hooks and headed toward a black Camaro, Stiles chose not to complain (seeing as he had requested it), even letting Derek drive and feeling magnanimous about it.

They went to the library first, which Stiles thought was strange, but changed his mind the instant he noticed Derek running his fingers over the letters engraved in a plaque commemorating the fact that the Hale family had donated the building, just above another plaque noting a large grant they'd given. "You guys all bookworms, then?" Stiles tried to keep himself from asking questions that would make Derek uncomfortable, but all it seemed to do was drive him to say the thing that would put such a look of profound sadness on Derek's face, almost forcing Stiles to pull him into a tight hug in front of the circulation desk. "Dude, forget I asked. Seriously."

Clearing his throat, Derek returned the hug briefly before pulling away. "I'm sorry. We were... our family loved books. I still do, though I don't take the time for it much anymore."

"You should." Stiles stepped back awkwardly, nearly upsetting a wire rack of pamphlets about the various programs the library offered. "Maybe... Maybe that'll help you reconnect with what you've lost. You can have your books, and I'll have the Beatles to remind me of my mom. She was like the one person to actually like Ringo best, but her favorite song was 'Let It Be'. She used to say that it would always play in the moments she needed it to. I..." Stiles sucked in a breath in and felt the burn of tears welling up in his eyes. "I was in the hospital room with her when she died, and that was the song that was playing. I remember hearing it start and I knew... I still wonder if she might have held on longer if I'd turned off the music, maybe at least long enough for my dad to get there, but... That song. I tend to hear it when I need to, too."

Derek wiped away the tear that started to slide down Stiles' cheek. "My mother... It's unusual for a wealthy family not to have nannies, but we didn't. My mother used to say that very small children only needed their families to read to them because they needed their hands held while going on adventures, and once they were old enough, then books would keep them better company than anyone she could hire."

"My favorite book as a kid was 'Hatchet'. I didn't get a lot of the stuff about the parents, but the survival bits? It was probably good for my dad that he got to toss me in Boy Scouts for a few years where I got to learn a whole bunch of things about which plants can kill me and how to tie forty-seven kinds of knots which, let me tell you, is useful as hell in the bedroom, too, and... This is not a good library conversation. No. Uh, are you done here or are you going to want to take a look around, or...?" Stiles wiped at his eyes with the knuckles of one hand, trying not to notice the look the woman at the desk was giving them.

With a soft laugh, Derek slid an arm around Stiles' shoulders and led him back toward the door. "If I recall correctly, the Sheriff's station is on the other side of town. Let's go there and see if there's anywhere I feel the need to stop at along the way."

Yet, despite Derek commenting on several of the things which had changed in town, he only stopped at lights and stop signs on the way to the station. Stiles only had to remind Derek of one turn, as well, making him wonder if Derek had actually stayed away from Beacon Hills as much as he'd implied.

Upon entering the station, half a dozen of the employees gave Stiles fond-sounding greetings, making him raise a hand to wave as he grinned. "Yo, where's my pops at?"

The man at the desk groaned. "You know he doesn't like when you call him that. But, he's in his office. Oh, and Stiles? Can I maybe talk to you after that?"

Stiles looked him over, his eyes narrowed. "Yeah, Scott. Sure." He patted Derek's shoulder. "Just taking the boyfriend to see the potential future father-in-law and scare him off fried foods for another week, and then I'm all yours, buddy."

Scott grinned. "I expect a better introduction then, too!"

Waving Scott off, Stiles grabbed Derek's hand and pulled him toward his father's office. He tapped on the door with his knuckles, then let himself in. "Hey, Dad."

The sheriff looked up from where he was typing something up. "Stiles. And Mr. Hale. I'm glad to see you, of course, but what's the occasion?"

Taking a seat in one of the chairs in front of the desk while motioning for Derek to take the other, Stiles cleared his throat and began to speak. "I haven't seen you in a bit which is unusual for us, so I thought I'd drag my boo over while he gets reacquainted with Beacon Hills. Also, this way we do the awkward meeting thing when you don't have time for a real interrogation."

"Got this all figured out, do ya, son?" Sheriff Stilinski laughed. "Well, Derek, I don't think I've seen you since you were a snot-nosed brat."

"I was sixteen?" Derek coughed and clutched the arms of the chair he sat in, cheeks flushing slightly pink.

Sitting back in his own chair, the sheriff gestured to Stiles. "And he's still a snot-nosed brat. Your point?" He didn't wait for an answer. "So, tell me, what in the world drew you to my kid when you've got your pick of pretty much anyone?"

With a lick of his bottom lip, Derek reached out to grab Stiles' hand, locking their fingers together. "There's just something about him. He's not kind, exactly, but he... I guess he kind of feels like exactly what I needed. He's pretty easy on the eyes, too."

"He mentioned having to move in while you weren't there because of how you like things a certain way. And, I shouldn't need to tell you why that concerns me." Folding his arms across his chest as he leaned back in his chair, the sheriff leveled a gaze at Derek. "Should I?"

Derek gave Stiles a quick look when he felt the other man squeeze his hand, then found himself smiling. "I think that was just some miscommunication through my assistant, Sheriff. I just didn't want to be moving in at the same time to avoid the confusion. I wouldn't want his shirts ending up in my closet, after all. I hardly think they'd fit."

"To be fair, Erica is scary and throws information at me like it's baseballs and she's major league." Stiles let out a short burst of nervous laughter. "So, uh, do you want to come over for dinner next week maybe?"

Raising his eyebrows, the sheriff leaned in toward Derek. "Please tell me you don't eat tofu."

"I don't normally, but Stiles is in charge of cooking, so if he makes tofu, I'll at least try it." Derek let his thumb rub against the back of Stiles' hand as he spoke.

Stiles laughed. "I get it. You think I'm going to stop caring about your heart just because I'm following mine. Not a chance, old man. I will have words with Patty down at the pastry shop and promise her huge orders if she'll deny all cops, and then you'll be stuck with grocery store baked goods and a mutiny on your hands." He pointed to Derek. "I now have the money to actually make that happen. If you're good, we'll have buffalo burgers that night. But, if Parrish or Scott catch you with any unapproved carbohydrates or meats? You are getting stir-fried tofu with boy choy, sprouts, and onion with low-sodium soy sauce and red pepper flakes as your only seasonings."

Derek shrugged. "I'd eat that."

Groaning, the sheriff rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "Yup, you're perfect together. Now, get out of here. Call me later this week about dinner, Stiles. And, Derek? It's nice to have you back in town."

Nodding, his lips tight against his teeth, Derek squeezed Stiles' hand softly. "It's good to be back, sir. I would have been back sooner, but I guess I just didn't have a good enough reason until now."

Smiling broadly, the sheriff looked to Stiles, then back to Derek. "I'm glad to hear it. Now, get out of here. I've got work to do, unlike you filthy reprobates."

Stiles stood and pulled Derek up, calling out to his father, "Remember that it's Beacon Hills and not Bacon Hills, okay?" before dragging Derek from the room. "Okay, now to go find out what Scott wanted." He cleared his throat. "Scott's the new best friend. He's... Well, I just seem to attract only people as friends who can't seem to look past their own problems sometimes. It's a thing. He still cares about me, but when he has relationship problems? That's all he can talk about. So, feel free to hit the vending machine for some Reese's while he and I talk. But, after the introduction or whatever."

Frowning, Derek let his thumb press harder against Stiles', belatedly realizing they were still holding hands. "It sounds like you might just have poor taste in friends."

"Dude, no way. Danny is physically impossible not to like. My new friend Cora is half the reason I was even able to meet you. Scott is awesome... just looking for the love of his life in what might be the wrong place." Stiles reached up with his free hand to scratch the back of his neck. "Haven't you ever been like that?"

Swallowing roughly, Derek let go of Stiles' hand. "Yes. But, it's never gone well for me before. I have other things to focus on now, like running a hotel conglomerate."

"Which you totally micromanage. Come on." Stiles walked back up to the desk where Scott was sitting, slapping his palms down on the counter to get his attention. "Yo, Scotty, what's up?"

Scott's expression was pained as he looked up, his phone in hand. "So, uh, I kind of met someone."

"Someone as in... not Allison?" Stiles' eyes went wide. "Tell me more."

Gesturing with one hand toward his phone, Scott let his mouth hang open for a moment before speaking. "I met this guy last week. He came in to ask about you, actually. But, he was flirting and I was kind of busy and wasn't thinking about the whole Allison thing, so I gave him my number and we went out for drinks last night and-"

Stiles ran a hand back through his hair as he sighed. "Is there a reason you didn't tell me about someone coming here to look for me?"

"Because, uh, it was busy?" Scott had the decency to look at least a little bit ashamed.

Derek cleared his throat. "I don't suppose his name was Isaac?"

"Yes!" Scott looked excited, only just seeming to notice Derek standing there, then his brow furrowed in confusion. "Wait, how'd you know?"

Touching Stiles' shoulder, Derek said softly, "That's my other assistant. Though, Erica claims he's hers. When I heard the initial rumors, I sent him to investigate."

"Isaac?" Stiles snorted suddenly. "Wait, is he that tall baby-faced guy with the kind of blondish curly hair?"

Scott's lips curled. "I don't think you can actually call anyone else baby-faced, but yes."

"I didn't realize curls were the extent of your type, Scott. That totally explains so much. And, seriously, never meet Erica. She'd eat you alive with a spoon and chocolate sauce." Stiles looked to Derek for confirmation. "Right?"

Derek shook his head. "Maybe just sprinkles. Erica is allergic to chocolate."

Stiles shuddered at the idea. "That explains so much. Anyway, Scott, what's the problem? You're dating Allison, you're dating Isaac, whatever. As long as you haven't talked about going steady or whatever it is you true romantics do, it's okay."

"But do I, like, tell them?" Scott looked up at the sound of the station door opening, then looked back to Stiles. "I'm freaking out because I thought Allison was it for me, and now I'm not sure. How did you suddenly find the one?"

Stiles drummed his fingers against the counter for a moment. "Because I wasn't holding out hope that Allison Argent was going to suddenly decide that she didn't actually care what her father thought about his daughter dating a cop?"

Derek sucked in a breath. "Argent? No. You're better off staying away from all of them."

Scott rolled his eyes. "Dude, but she's amazing. She has these dimples... and her eyes... and she recycles!"

"Don't call him dude, dude. Even I can't get away with that." Stiles leaned over the desk, grabbing a peppermint from a small bowl tucked out of sight. "And you are literally just listing things that could apply to virtually everyone. You should not have an emotional attachment to the fact that she has eyes. Derek has eyes. Very fascinating eyes, yes, but eyes nonetheless."

Derek grunted. "I can vouch for Isaac, though. He's a good guy. He's a little spacy sometimes, but considering you're friends with Stiles? I think it should work."

Stiles patted the desk again. "Okay, good talk, Scott. Anyway, this is the guy I'm living with and I will text you about getting together soon where you are not allowed to blow me off for relationship stuff again even though I totally made a new friend at the bar last time, even though I technically don't remember the meeting her part so much as the waking up and her being there griping because I'd puked on her shoes."

"Seriously?" Derek shook his head. "Look, let's go back to the house and we'll get that run in while it's still bright enough to run in the woods."

Grinning, Stiles smirked at Scott. "And then maybe I'll get post-run shower nookie." He waved as Derek started to pull him away toward the door. "I'll text you!"

Derek unlocked the car and climbed into the driver's seat. He waited until Stiles was buckled in before sighing. "There's really nothing to do in this town, is there? I guess I just never realized it growing up."

Stiles looked up from bucking his seatbelt. "There's stuff to do, but it's the same stuff everywhere else has. And, to be fair, you were living in the lap of luxury growing up, so you probably got to have birthday helicopter rides and actually got a pony for Christmas and all of that stuff to go along with your private bowling alley and state-of-the-art electronics." He snickered at the look on Derek's face. "I'm totally right on all of that, aren't I?"

"Not the pony," Derek said finally. "And my mother gave a very firm 'no' to the monkey I wanted in second grade."

"You were so mistreated. I'll have to make sure you get extra dessert. Now, come on. Let's go run. I was kidding about the shower nookie, of course. I'm now thinking of it as crazy monkey sex, and that's just dangerous in the shower." Stiles slapped Derek's arm when he saw the look the other man was giving him. "I am kidding. I know... I went into this expecting to be celibate for a month. As that's not terribly different from any other month, I'm not especially bothered. But, again, anyone who sees me with you is going to assume certain things, and my mouth gets carried away, and... I'm going to shut up now. Because you look as uncomfortable as I feel."

Derek raised one eyebrow at him and started the car. "If you recall, I also made certain claims about our sex life in front of your friends, so you can natter on about it. It's not like saying things makes them happen, after all."

"Oh. Of course not." Stiles scratched at the hair right above his temple, sinking down into the seat. "But, seriously, natter? Who even says that? Are you, like, 80?"

With a roll of his eyes, Derek started the drive home. "Yes, Stiles. I'm the rich octogenarian you're dating in hopes of being named first in his will. I'm on to you."

Stiles snorted. "I'm pretty sure you have to actually be sweet to be a sugar daddy, you know." Derek just smiled and kept on driving.

Half an hour later, they were back at the house and changed into running gear, though Derek's skin-tight running shorts and long-sleeved sweat-wicking shirt made him tug at the drawstring on his basketball shorts and wonder if he should have taken the opportunity to wear one of his graphic t-shirts in place of the undershirt he hadn't changed out of from earlier. "So, uh, you probably know these trails better than me, so, you first?"

Derek nodded, going through a series of stretches that Stiles joined in on only a moment later. "If I remember correctly, the path here to the right is a three mile loop that only goes uphill on the first half."

"That sounds great," Stiles said, standing with his legs spread and leaning down to touch the ground with his fingertips. "Well, shall we?"

"What? Uh, yeah." Derek stood up suddenly, jogging in place for a moment. "Let's go." He waited for Stiles to stand, then took off running.

It took them most of the first mile to find a pace that worked for them both, deciding not to talk in favor of being able to actually keep their momentum up. For all that Stiles hadn't been able to shut up before, he found that there was a companionable sort of silence between them, the rhythm of the run keeping his thoughts from drifting away too much. Derek took the second mile with ease, though Stiles found himself a bit short of breath as they pushed past the crest of a hill, and that seemed to be just the moment for Derek to turn back to look at him, his eyes going wide as his foot slid on a patch of leaves fallen early from the trees for the year, sending him down onto his side. Stiles crouched beside him a moment later, one hand to his side where his lungs seemed to be giving up their protest. "Hey, you okay?"

Derek scrambled to his feet, dusting himself off, and groaned. "Other than my pride?"

Stiles laughed from his position. "Actually..." He pointed to Derek's knee where it was scraped and bleeding.

"Of course." Derek's nostrils flared as he wiped his wrist against his forehead, clearing it of sweat.

"It's cool." Stiles pulled a bandage from his pocket, smirking at Derek's look of disbelief as he applied it to the wound. "There. Now, this isn't as much of a lie as it was." He stood up, tucking the wrapper in his pocket. "Right?"

Derek nodded, his eyes still wide as he looked Stiles over. "Right."

"Let's get back. You can get that cleaned up while I get dinner ready. And then maybe tell me more about what to expect on Wednesday." Stiles shrugged. "I don't want to screw anything up for you, y'know?"

"Of course." Derek ran in place a few steps and nodded. "Yeah, I'm good to go. It's downhill from here, anyway."

Licking at his lower lip, Stiles pulled it into his mouth and nodded. "Yeah, okay. So, guess we might as well enjoy it."

Derek led the way, wondering if they were talking about the same thing.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to apologize that this chapter has been so long coming. Last chapter took a long time because my laptop was having problems, and basically as soon as I got it all going well again, I had basically a solid month of illness. I'm hoping life will stop getting in my way soon. XD

"Stiles, would you calm down? It's just a... It's a meeting. You don't even have to pay attention. Have a drink, eat all of the hors d'oeuvres, and just remember to pretend we're really together." Derek smoothed his hand down Stiles' sleeve as he parked the car, wondering if Wednesdays were supposed to feel so much like a firing squad.

Rolling his eyes, Stiles reached up to adjust his tie and sighed. "Telling me to calm down would probably work a little better if, y'know, you were remotely calm. You look like you think I'm going to walk in there and scream 'This is a sham!' at the top of my lungs." He looked pointedly at the way Derek's hand was still squeezing at his jacket sleeve.

Derek pulled his hand away, one shoulder shrugging infinitesimally. "We've been fine dealing with each other for the last few days. There's nothing to say this shouldn't go just as well."

Shaking his head, Stiles finally slid off his seatbelt. "At least I can complain loudly and accurately that you're a blanket thief. So, uh, yeah. There's that."

"That's... That's why we've been sharing the bed. Besides, it didn't make sense to force you to sleep in another room when your closet is in my room anyway, especially after the first time went okay." Derek pulled the keys from the ignition, tucking them into his pocket as he opened the door. "Would you come on already?"

Snorting, Stiles got to moving. They walked close together, but not quite touching, as Derek led the way through the parking garage and into the elevator, hitting the button to take them to the floor housing Arcadia Enterprises where the meeting with Deucalion would happen. As it started to move upward, Stiles cleared his throat. "I'm going to go ahead and apologize for how I'm going to act today because it's probably going to make you a little uncomfortable, but I'm going to sell this for you. That's what we agreed on, so today I'm not holding back. I'm going to kiss you, and probably pinch your ass at some point, and I may say things that sound very assumption-y because I'm just making things up, but I know this is a big deal for you. So, y'know, I'm not going to leave room for doubt." He glanced over at Derek, biting at his lower lip for a moment. "Okay?"

"Of course." Derek slid an arm around Stiles' back, standing up tall as he pulled the other man closer. "If there are problems, we'll discuss them later. As it is, I owe you coffee at a place of your choosing in order to help make Jackson believe this. I'd hate it if you were also so encumbered."

His sudden laugh echoing in the elevator, Stiles smirked. "Let's just hope this guy you're meeting with isn't nearly as suspicious as my old friend."

"Deucalion? Hardly. He makes no apologies about what he wants, but he's not really a terribly difficult man to please. He wants the best, and only his particular brand of that will do." Derek shrugged, easing even more into the half-embrace he and Stiles were engaged in. "I don't really get his whole deal about relationships being more important than anything else, but if that's what he wants to see, that's what I intend to show him."

Stiles smirked. "Just for that, I'm totally sitting on your lap at some point."

Derek returned the look. "That's fine." The elevator slowed to a stop and the doors opened to reveal an empty hallway that surprised Derek slightly, having been expecting a big to-do about the visit. "Are you ready?"

"Uh... Yeah." Stiles hooked his arm around Derek's and stepped into the hallway with him. "Any idea which way we're supposed to g- Okay, I think this lovely woman is here to lead the way." He waved at Kali as she approached, raising an eyebrow at the pair. "Kali, right?"

She nodded once. "Correct. Sorry we forgot to send you the room number in advance. The idea had been to send someone to pick you up, but then we found out you'd moved. Is the commute manageable?" She held out a hand, gesturing toward the door she'd come out of a moment before.

Derek shook his head as he walked along with Stiles. "It's actually rather nice. I've had all of these cars sitting at my old family house for years, so now I'm actually taking the chance to drive them all. Stiles' commute is a bit longer, too, but it seemed the perfect idea to find some place between our respective jobs. You know, compromise."

Heading into the room, Kali nodded her head knowingly. "I understand that. I moved in with my girlfriend a few months ago myself, not that we're ever there much. I suppose, on the plus side, we tend to stay in Hale Hotels when we travel?" She let out a soft laugh. "You'll meet her in a moment, anyway. Come in and say hello."

Putting on a bright smile, Stiles tugged Derek the rest of the way into the room, glancing around at the veritable buffet set up along one wall and the soft music piped into the room that a pair of young guys, twins, were jokingly dancing to while an older gentleman wearing dark glasses spoke with a guy who seemed to dwarf everyone in the room. There were several others milling around: a woman with dark curly hair, a guy who looked entirely too much like his old lacrosse coach, and a young black woman with scars across her throat who still smiled like a beauty queen. "Where do we start?"

"I'm partial to my girlfriend, so we'll start with her. Jennifer?" Kali held up a hand as she spoke, smiling as the dark-haired woman turned toward them.

Derek froze, his hand suddenly clutching Stiles' arm tightly enough to hurt. Stiles shook his arm briefly, looking up at Derek with his brow furrowed. "Something wrong?"

Jennifer's nose wrinkled slightly as she stepped in front of them, one of her hands reaching out to clutch Kali's. "Oh, this is a bit awkward, isn't it? Kali told me this was a party for a company they were looking into investing in, but it seems she never actually mentioned the Hale name to me."

Kali's mouth dropped open for a moment. "I had forgotten that Derek here used to date you." She pursed her lips, her eyes widening as she looked between them. "Well, maybe it's meant to be. We tend to keep things in the family a bit too much around here. I dated Duke once, and Ennis. But being in business together is virtually the same as being in bed together. They're just rewarding in different ways."

The man with the glasses tilted his head up, calling out, "Oh, have our guests arrived? Bring them over, Kali."

Derek nodded and let himself be dragged. "Hello, sir. It's a pleasure to be here."

"Oh, there's no need to stand on ceremony today, Derek. Call me Duke. Today's not so much about business as it is about letting you get to know Arcadia and for us to see if you're a good fit for our company to support." He stood carefully, unfolding a cane and smiling. 

Stiles quirked an eyebrow. "So, you'd be supporting Derek and not Hale Hotels? Otherwise, it seems like it would have been a good idea to invite his uncle or even, well, anyone else. Eight against two doesn't exactly foster an idea of compromise, though it does explain the lack of anyone here to record things." He shut his mouth suddenly. "And I apparently need to go see this buffet and find other things to do with my mouth because talking isn't exactly working and-"

"And who are you?" Deucalion leaned forward toward him slightly, his head cocked slightly.

"I'm Stiles Stilinski. I'm Derek's boyfriend. I'm sorry I spoke out of turn like that, it's just... No, y'know what? I'm in marketing. If nothing else, I know exactly what it means when you set a scene up like this. It's designed to make Derek feel like he's all alone so that he'll be more likely to concede to your demands. It's business. No one helps anyone else out just for the hell of it, so whatever terms you're looking for, you're doing your best to come out on the better end of it." Stiles' face went pale as Derek suddenly jerked him backward. "I-"

Deucalion tucked his cane in the crook of his arm and clapped a few times, smiling. "You're not incorrect, you know. It wasn't really my intention to do this to Derek, particularly since I knew his mother well, but there are certain habits that I've gotten into as I've made this company grow, and that is one of them." He snapped his fingers. "Ethan, will you get Mr. Stilinski and Mr. Hale some champagne? I'm beginning to think this endeavor may be an even greater one than I initially surmised."

One of the twins walked off toward the buffet, coming back carrying two champagne glasses. "Here you go." He gestured toward his brother. "Aiden and I are happy to get things for you if you can't find them yourself. Deucalion's kind of our adopted father, so we're his package deal plus-one today. I wasn't expecting to be entertained at this thing, so thanks for that."

Derek reached a hand up to rub at the bridge of his nose. "If Stiles caused any offense..."

"Derek, I..." Stiles hung his head, his knuckles white as his fingers clenched around his champagne glass.

"Oh, don't be mad at the boy for looking out for your best interests, Derek. If anything, I'm even more determined to make this go through fairly for both of us. Your mother always thrived going against conflicting personalities. I see that you've taken that to heart, as well. But, let's put business aside for a bit and talk about life instead. Do take a moment to help yourself to some of the food first." Deucalion moved carefully, barely using the cane he carried, settling down on a plush looking sectional sofa and patting the cushion next to him which the tall man took up a moment later. "Everyone join me and Ennis when you're ready."

Stiles made a beeline for the buffet, guzzling down his glass of champagne on the way. When he got to the table, he started loading up a little bit of everything, pausing only when he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He turned to see Derek behind him, his expression blank. "It... it worked out. Right?"

"Those weren't exactly the kind of waves I expected you to make. We're damn lucky it worked out." Derek picked up a plate of his own, adding more mini meatballs to it than were probably healthy.

"I know." Stiles stole one of the meatballs off of Derek's plate, popping it in his mouth and making quick work of it. "Skip the steak tips. I can smell they're in some kind of hot sauce."

Derek frowned. "And that's why I went for the meatballs instead. Just... get over there and continue to be your charming self for Deucalion. I don't know why he likes you, but he seems to."

Stiles snorted and poured himself another glass of champagne before leaning over and kissing Derek's cheek. "Maybe it's because you like me so much?" He winked and walked over toward the couch, seating himself at the very end and holding his glass up in acknowledgement of the others sitting around him. Derek finished grabbing his own food and went to sit next to Stiles, their thighs pressed tightly together.

"So, Derek, Duke wants to know all about how things have been going in your hometown. What's it like to be back?" Kali popped a crab puff in her mouth after she asked the question, eyeing Derek expectantly.

"Well... It's interesting." Derek cleared his throat, a hint of a smile turning the corners of his mouth. "If I had known Stiles there in my youth, I can only imagine the things we might have gotten up to, but it's a very small town. Having been back there for a few days, I think I can safely say that I've done most of the things that can be done."

Ennis let out a huff of breath, running one hand over the top of his shaved head. "That doesn't sound interesting at all."

Stiles shrugged. "It's true there isn't much to actually do in Beacon Hills. But, there are some really good people. Just walking around downtown, you might find yourself having conversations about nearly anything. Here in Sacramento, you can always find something going on, but in Beacon Hills it's more about making your own fun. And Derek and I? I think we manage that pretty well."

"And that is precisely why I believe that everyone should have someone in their lives. I did worry about you, Derek. After what happened to your family, it became clear just how much they had meant to you. I'm glad to see you starting to have that again." Deucalion lifted his glass. "To the bonds between people."

Derek lifted his glass, his eyes widening when Stiles did the same and tapped his glass against Derek's. "Stiles... I guess he came into my life at just the right moment."

Stiles put a hand on Derek's knee, squeezing it. "You act like you didn't do the same for me. Our relationship has been a series of fortunate circumstances so far."

Jennifer let out a soft laugh. "This is fascinating. When I dated Derek, he was hardly this emotional unless someone spilled something on his suit or scratched his car. I was all ready to be angry that he had moved on so completely, but seeing the two of you together? I can see exactly why I wasn't the right one for him." She smirked. "And, besides, if I hadn't left him when I did, I might never have found Kali. That was a fortunate circumstance."

Derek lifted one brow, hand unconsciously coming to cover Stiles' where it still squeezed his knee. "Oh?"

Kali took one of Jennifer's hands, stroking it gently. "She crashed into a tree and I was the person who stopped to help her. I don't know why she's calling it fortunate."

Jennifer shook her head. "You make it sound like I didn't almost die bleeding out on the roots of that tree because I was stupid and driving while crying. You were the one who kept me from bleeding out after I got tossed through the window. I'm going to call that fortune."

One of the twins threw his head back with a laugh. "Why in the world were you driving while crying?"

"Because I'd just broken up with a guy I really liked because it just wasn't working for either of us." Jennifer gave Derek a soft smile. "If I've learned anything from studying literature, it's that relationships can be bad for you even if there isn't anything you can quite peg as wrong, but they can also be good for you even if you can't really understand why."

Derek sucked in a breath. "You and I should have lunch next week. There were things about us that worked. Maybe we were just meant to be friends?"

Jennifer laughed, her hands clutched with Kali's who was smiling at her. "That sounds good. I could always use more friends."

"As we all could, I'm sure." Deucalion folded his hands in his lap suddenly. "So, shall we discuss some terms of our agreement?"

Derek nodded. "I think a twenty million dollar investment as we discussed will be plenty, but what are you wanting to get out of this?"

"Half a percent of the company's profits for the next ten years and free suites for my executives when traveling for the same period of time." Deucalion shrugged. "I'm aware of your current profits. I'm confident that that's a good cost, making my investment more of a loan."

"I'll..." Derek nodded. "I'm going to have to look over the numbers and discuss it with Peter, but that's a far better deal than I expected."

Deucalion took his glasses off rubbing at his eyes a moment before sliding them back on. "Your mother is the reason I was able to get into business in the first place. You aren't struggling, Derek, merely wanting to take things forward at a faster pace. Besides, you've introduced me to Mr. Stilinski here and I fully intend to find out which marketing firm he works at and to engage his services. Arcadia's image could use a bit of a facelift, and he seems just the man to help."

Stiles' mouth dropped open. "But, you... Um. Okay. Yeah. Uh, I'm actually pretty low-level still so I'm kind of just starting to lead projects, but sure. I'll get you my card at the end of this meeting. I'm pretty sure my boss would kill me if I refused the opportunity."

"Just as I'm sure I'll have to give them a very clear missive that I want you working on my account and not some senior-level pomp who got where they are through nepotism and treating everyone else like peons and stepping stones. I don't stand for that behavior in Arcadia and I won't stand for it in companies I associate with." Deucalion tilted his chin up, smirking. "I'll give Peter Hale a pass, of course. He might have gotten when he is because of that behavior, but he is still rather good at his job."

Derek snorted. "My mother did her best not to let Peter have any kind of real power, so he had to do extra to earn it. If anything, I'm the one who got where he is just because I own the company now. I was never groomed for it, just had it thrust upon me, so now I feel like I'm floundering."

Giving Derek a sharp smile, Kali nodded. "And that's exactly why you're doing a good job. As long as you feel that way, you're never going to rest on your laurels and Hale Hotels will always keep moving forward."

Putting down his glass and plate on the coffee table in front of them, Stiles broke the mood by clapping his hands together. "So, am I the only Mets fan in the room, or does someone want to talk that last game with me? That triple in the fourth inning, am I right?" He slid one arm around Derek's shoulders, thumb stroking rhythmically across the seam of his jacket sleeve.

Derek leaned against him, grateful for the comfort in the midst of all of the feelings that were being dredged up in the meeting. It wasn't going anything like he'd planned for, or even hoped for, and yet it was starting to feel more and more like his carefully planned life was being disrupting in the perfect way. He turned and caught Stiles' gaze and pressed forward for a kiss, surprised at the soft moan it shocked out of his own throat. He pulled away, blushing softly. "You and the Mets, I swear."

Stiles grinned. "Take me to a game and you will see a me you've never imagined."

Rolling his eyes, Derek opens his mouth, intending to tell Stiles he never imagined him at all, but he realizes all at once it isn't quite true. What he says instead is, "Okay. I'll get tickets for next weekend."

"Uh, what? Derek, they're playing a home game then." Stiles shook his head. "Don't worry about it. We can talk about it later." He licked his lips, then suddenly moved, climbing into Derek's lap and smirking. "The fact that you offered is enough."

Derek rolled his eyes, but let his arms wrap around Stiles' waist. "You're right." He paused. "We'll talk about it later."

One of the twins raised an eyebrow at them. "Pretty sure Duke's 'bonds of man' thing doesn't include guys making out on his couch during meetings."

The other twin shrugged. "Yeah, but I could stand to watch."

Stiles started to slide off of Derek's lap, but he was held in place. Derek shrugged. "If you think this is making out, you're doing it wrong."

"And here I thought I was the embarrassing one." Stiles smiled and let himself relax against Derek's chest. "Carry on with your meeting, everyone. This guy's comfy."

Deucalion shook his head, smiling fondly. "I feel we've already done all of the important bits already. Now, I suppose we're just obligated to drink the rest of the champagne."

Derek nodded. "That's something I can get behind."

Stiles frowned. "We need to get back to Beacon Hills tonight, though. I do have work in the morning. For that matter, so do you."

"Stay the night at Derek's hotel and I'll contact your boss in the morning, Stiles. Surely a new account will smooth over a bit of tardiness." Deucalion ran a finger over the rim of his champagne glass. "You're in a position to take advantage of your circumstances now. Enjoy it."

Shaking his head, Stiles said softly, "No. Just because I can take advantage doesn't mean I should. I'm not with Derek for his money or his position or anything else like that and I've got a lot of pride in how I do my job. I'm not jeopardizing that for drinks with big wigs. Sorry."

Derek took Stiles' hand, interlocking their fingers. "We'll call a car service for tonight to bring us back to Beacon Hills. I'll get Isaac to take the car back tomorrow. Is that a good compromise?"

Covering his face with his free hand for a moment, Stiles laughed. "Yeah, okay. Compromise. But only because that is some awesome champagne and I need like eighty more of those shrimp."

The man who looked like Stiles' lacrosse coach glared at him from where he was leaning against the wall, talking to the black woman with the scars. "Those shrimp are mine. Don't even think about it." His brow furrowed. "Wait, do I know you? You look a lot like a kid I used to coach. Bilinski?"

Stiles swallowed roughly. "Coach Finstock?"

"You're not on my team anymore. You can call me Cupcake. Ennis does." He winked at the tall man. "The shrimp are mine, though."

Turning back toward Derek, Stiles shrugged. "It's a really small world sometimes, isn't it?"

"Really small," Derek replied, glancing over at Jennifer before returning his gaze to Stiles. That small world had brought them together and it... Derek couldn't even say just how well that seemed to be going. It felt good, great even, but that sort of feeling never seemed to last. As it was, his relationship with Stiles had an end date. But maybe, just maybe, they could renegotiate. They'd agreed to look over the contract again the next day and adjust it as needed. Derek swallowed roughly. He had until then to think up reasons to extend everything past one month; reasons that didn't include 'I just want you around and I have no real idea why'.


	9. Chapter 9

Stiles let himself relax back into the chair, yawning. "If I thought I could actually wake up before it threw my whole sleep schedule off, I'd say we should take naps before we discuss this contract thing."

With a shake of his head, Derek shoved over a piece of paper and a pen. "We said we'd discuss, so let's discuss. It's been the better part of a week, so let's talk about what's working and what isn't."

Bringing the pen up to his mouth, Stiles stuck the end into his mouth, teeth clenching down on it. "I think you need to step up your side of the game. I got a text from Jackson earlier asking if I was ready to tell the truth yet." 

With a quick glance up at Stiles' mouth, Derek cleared his throat and looked down at his paper, starting to scribble some words on it. "I guess you'll be wanting to do a double date or something, then?" He paused, looking up hesitantly. "Unless that's too awkward?"

Shaking his head, Stiles put his pen down. "It should be fine. I want to mend fences or whatever you call it when I show that I came out on the better end of the deal, so it's okay that I got screwed over years ago."

Derek's lip curled. "We should do that Mets game."

"I told you they're not playing here this weekend. It's a home game which is hilarious because they're playing the Dodgers." Stiles rubbed a thumb against his temple. "My team versus Jackson's. We could invite him over to watch it on TV?"

"All the more reason we should go." Derek shrugged. "It's the Mets, not the Yankees, so the stadium won't be sold out. We'll fly in Saturday morning, hit the game that night, maybe the one the next day, and fly back. No big deal."

Letting out a burst of startled laughter, Stiles slid his chair back to stand, his hands coming to rest on the table. "No big deal? You're talking 2 cross-country flights and you don't look like the kind of guy who flies economy. Oh my god, you have a private jet, don't you? You're going to get us some weird seats up in a skybox where you'll eat lobster while watching the game and-"

"Stiles." Derek smiled, clearly amused. "I was thinking more seats on the first baseline, right above the dugout. We'll be on film there and Jackson will see it if he watches. And, I do not have a private jet. But, what I do have is a rather large bank account that I'm happy to use to fly business class instead of economy. I wouldn't mind seeing a game or two, myself."

Biting his lower lip for a moment, Stiles sat back down. "Okay. I'll accept that instead of a coffee date if, and only if, I can buy the hot dogs at the stadium." He laughed suddenly. "It's going to be so weird going to Citi Field. I got to go to Shea once as a kid, but now Citi Field? That's going to be crazy. I hear it's so different. We'll need to go in early because there's no way I'm missing out on seeing the museum and buying nine tons of stupid merchandise."

Derek nodded. "Of course. Now, I suppose we should discuss your behavior around Deucalion?"

Stiles cleared his throat. "Look, I didn't mean for that to happen. But, I went in there prepared to sell the fact that I think you deserve the world, and that's kind of just how it all came out."

"Thank you." Derek let the end of his pen tap against the table. "It might have been awkward at first, but you really made it work. That business deal went through like it did because you were there, and I can't thank you enough for it. You might think I'm lavishing you in luxury with everything, but just in that one night, you made every penny I spend on your happiness worth it so that I can make my family's company even better."

"I don't..." Stiles let the silence hang between them for a long moment before he let his shoulders slump forward. "You make it so hard to feel like I'm not taking advantage of you, man. I know this supposedly benefits you, but this is all just so much _more_ than what I'm used to." He scratched his head. "Anyway, um, I kind of got taken off your account today and put on the Arcadia account and there's a chance I might get a promotion, so we're pretty equal, all things considered."

Smiling, Derek let himself grip his pen with both hands, fingers pursed together at each end. "Congratulations. It was probably a conflict of interest to work on my account anyway while we're doing this." He paused. "You know, if you have this new account to work on and I have to deal with everything with this investment, we're probably not going to see each other than much." He let himself exhale through his nose, his lips tight together for a moment. "I suppose that's as good a reason as any for our eventual breakup."

"Totally." Stiles started drawing something on his paper, a cartoon animal of some sort. "So, um, my dad'll be coming over for dinner soon. And, maybe one night we'll have Isaac and Scott and maybe Erica and my friend Cora over? I don't know. This place is just made for entertaining and I just want to have all of these little get-togethers and feel like a real adult for once. I was still living at home because it just didn't make sense to move out when I was just going to be alone."

Derek cleared his throat. "Will you be going back there once this is all over?"

"Yeah." Stiles shrugged, scratching at the back of his head before scribbling out the animal he'd drawn before Derek could decide what it was. "Isn't that what you do when you're spurned by your lover who was the one who owned the place you were living? It might be weird, at first, but if I'm managing this, I think I can manage anything."

The scratch of Stiles' pen filled the air until Derek spoke again. "Obviously, I'm taking up your weekend. So, let me know when you make plans for anything else and I'll do my best to be here for them."

Stiles grinned in reply. "Got it. So, I guess everything else is working out so far, right? Nothing that you're taking issue with?"

Derek shook his head quickly. "It's working, I think. Or, at least, we're doing what we can to make it work." His nose wrinkled slightly. "I should warn you that Isaac will be over here in the morning, expecting a ride to work since I made him bring the car back this afternoon so he's spending the night in town. It seems he and your friend Scott are getting along nicely."

"Good." Stiles smirked. "At least someone I know is getting some."

Derek's brow furrowed. "If you were very discreet, you could-"

"No." Stiles' expression was suddenly tense. "I can keep it in my pants for a month, and I expect the same of you. It might not be the most comfortable thing, but I don't want anyone else knowing that this isn't exactly what we say it is." He shrugged. "Besides, I'd have to find someone who would actually want to sleep with me and that's always been difficult."

"I don't know why." Derek gestured toward Stiles. "You're an attractive, capable guy who is extremely loyal."

Stiles laughed softly. "That's it, I think. Sex? Sex is nice. I've been there and done that and it was great. But, it's not enough. I want a relationship where sex is the whipped cream and cherry on top, but I must be rum raisin or some other horrible kind of ice cream that no one wants when it comes to relationships because no one wants to... My metaphor has officially gone off the rails."

Reaching over and gripping one of Stiles' hands, Derek caught his gaze. "You're a hot fudge brownie sundae with nuts, and some people are allergic to nuts. I know it's no consolation coming from someone like me, but I think you'll find someone."

"Maybe." Stiles let his hand squeeze Derek's. "After all, when this is over, it'll look like I'm the one who got away or something. Someone will want me after that, right?"

Derek sucked in a sharp breath. "Definitely."

* * *

Saturday afternoon had them in Flushing, Queens, in a hired car on the way to Citi Field, Stiles' foot tapping in anticipation. "I still can't believe this is happening."

Derek rolled his eyes. "We're almost to the door. You ready?"

Stiles nodded, his eyes going impossibly wide as he looked at the stadium rising tall outside the window. The car had barely come to a stop before he was scrambling out of the door and dragging Derek behind him. "Come on!"

They moved through the entrance until Stiles paused, looking up and around. "The Jackie Robinson Rotunda. 'A life is not important except in the impact it has on other lives.' Jackie Robinson, though. Man. I was number 24 on my lacrosse team and I always thought it was so cool that my number was his reversed." He ran a hand through his hair. "I wasn't very good, but it kept me trying." He brought his hands together, holding them in front of his mouth. "This is like sacred ground to me, seriously."

Derek grinned. "Then let's make it everything it can be. Museum first? We're coming back tomorrow and we can do more of a focus on things you see today that you don't feel you have the time for."

Stiles smiled broadly at Derek, taking his hand. "This is awesome and I want you to know that. And I am totally buying you a beer or something with your hot dog." He saw signs and dragged Derek along more, stopping first to have their tickets processed, then pausing every few steps once they were in the museum area to look at new things, from plaques to the original Mr. Met costume to trophies and handwritten notes carefully posted around the room, giving everything his undivided attention for longer than Derek had even seen the man manage to be still before. "I could spend hours in here," he finally said. "I don't know what it is, but I grew up with the Mets, and they're still just as important as they ever were. So, even though this isn't Shea, there's something about this place still."

"Are you ready to go buy out the gift shop?" Derek quirked an eyebrow upward, gesturing toward the store. At Stiles' nod, he led the way, watching with a smile as Stiles grabbed shirts and hats, a pennant, a water bottle, a coffee mug, and an assortment of other small things that piled up too quickly for Derek to process, then headed up to the cashier. "Did you just get one of everything?"

Stiles frowned. "No. Some things, I got two. You are not sitting next to me without supporting the Mets. Only heathens sit along the first baseline and don't support blue and orange."

"You're getting me a Mets jersey?" Derek moved closer, suddenly taking interest in the pile the man at the register was working through.

With a snort, Stiles shook his head. "Oh, no. You're paying. And you're also wearing a hat and I grabbed some sunscreen because red clashes with orange." He still pulled the card from his wallet, brandishing it with a grin. "If you think I'm worth the money, I can't help but see how much you mean it."

"Is that a Mr. Met stuffed animal?" Derek squinted at what the cashier was shoving into the bag. 

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Mr. Met is not an animal, so it is a plush." He shrugged. "I don't know when I'll get back over here, so I figured I'd get everything that caught my eye the first time around. Tomorrow, I'll come in and see if there's anything else I can't live without."

Derek picked up the several bags the cashier handed over with a grin, and laughed softly. "Do you really think there's anything left in this store you can't live without?"

Looking up at Derek as he put his card away, Stiles shrugged. "I think there's maybe things I don't want to live without."

There was an awkward moment of silence, then Stiles took one of the bags from Derek. "Come on, let's go to our seats. I want to get into my fake uniform... Do you think I should have gotten the pants, too?"

"I think we'll be fine in this. If you want to buy baseball pants for tomorrow, you can wear them. I'm perfectly happy with a nice pair of jeans." Derek pulled out one of the jerseys. "You know my size?"

Stiles shrugged. "It seemed like a thing to know. So, then if Jackson decided he needed to buy some kind of gift for Lydia at Macy's and drag me along, I could stop and say I wanted to look at a shirt for you and did they have your size and then laugh because if you're going to do off the rack, it's not going to be from Macy's."

Derek checked his ticket stub, leading them toward their seats with little confusion. "You really spent time thinking about this, didn't you?"

Fingers stroking down the armrest of one empty seat as they walked by, Stiles smirked. "I can tell you why all of the seats here are green; an homage to the original Mets stadium that used to have the Giants in it. I can tell you that this is still considered a pitcher's park even after they changed the field dimensions in 2012. I can tell you the names and numbers and probably the batting average of every guy on this team. It's no big deal remembering a shirt size."

"Yeah, but that's a whole lot of story that went along with faking buying a shirt for me." Derek dug out the other jersey for Stiles, handing it over as they got to their seats. "Is this going to work for you?" He took the tags off of his own jersey, pulling it on and buttoning it up.

Stiles leaned forward slightly, gripping the railing as he took a deep breath. "I can see first base. I'm going to be watching Lucas Duda from close enough that I could probably throw Cracker Jacks at him. Dude, is that...? That is Tom Goodwin. The first base coach is talking with Jason DeGrom and Juan Lagares and I am here, close enough to almost hear them, and I am..." He let out a strangled yell, gripping the hat Derek had handed him with he spoke and smacking Derek's leg with it. "This is so amazing!"

"Sunscreen," Derek said softly, handing it over. "And maybe actually put on your hat and shirt." He adjusted the band on his own hat and slid it on. "How do I look?"

"Like a dream come true." Stiles reached up and smeared sunscreen across Derek's nose. "Thank you again for this. I don't even know how you managed to get these seats on such short notice because these are awesome, but it means a lot to me that you decided to do this for me. I know this all started in a weird way, but we're getting along, right?" He cleared his throat, starting to put on his gear. "At least, I think so."

Derek nodded. "I'm honestly amazed at how well we get along. It might be obvious, but there really aren't a lot of people I actually get along with." He reached out, nudging Stiles' arm. "Sunscreen. I mean it." He glared until Stiles actually slathered some on.

The seats were starting to fill up around them, the hawkers slowly making their way down through the growing crowd to offer snacks and merchandise. When he and Stiles were both in their Mets gear, Stiles' other purchases carefully tucked away in front of him as they were seated in the front row, Derek gestured toward the field. "So, is there a reason you never switched your allegiance to a team that does a little better?"

"Because I'm not some fairweather fan. I liked the Mets at first because that was my Little League team, so I had this crazy idea that at long as I played well, I'd eventually play for them in the big leagues. But, hey, I wasn't that good and my high school didn't even have baseball, so I played lacrosse. So, I watched games on TV with my mom, and it just... The Mets mean something. That's not going to change. And just because they're not winning every series doesn't mean they're not great at what they do. There's other teams where they get involved with some shady stuff to win, but the Mets just play good clean games that are fun to watch. That's what baseball means to me. Win or lose, I just love to watch my team." Stiles' jaw was set, and a woman a few seats to his right clapped, muttering her agreement.

Derek smirked. "See? Loyal. It's not a bad thing. I don't really have a team that I follow. I love to watch the game, even love to play, but I just never found that there was only one team to root for. I just kind of sit down and watch and pick a team I want to win based on how they're playing that day."

"You're crazy. I'm adding that into our contract. For the rest of forever, you're rooting for the Mets with me." Stiles grinned. "Oh, hey, the game's about to start." He dug out his pennant, waving it around with a laugh.

Tuning out for much of the opening hullabaloo with the first pitch and the singing of the national anthem, Derek found himself really watching Stiles and noticing the way excitement seemed to seep out of his pores. Stiles had said Derek would see a 'him' he'd never imagined if he took him to a game, but it wasn't anywhere near the truth because he had spent far much time at work in the past few days daydreaming about this very thing and coming up with a scenario not entirely unlike what was happening. Stiles was always animated, always excited in ways that Derek couldn't truly fathom, but this was just more. This was a Stiles who was open in a way that Stiles in California hadn't been, and it wasn't what he was used to, true, but is was definitely what he had imagined. Without realizing it, he slid his arm around Stiles's shoulders, squeezing him gently in response to the yell that he gave a double play. 

It was around the third inning, just after the Mets had gotten a homerun and Stiles enthusiastically pointed to the back of center field and explained the large red apple that rose up from a black stand there, that Stiles finally got the idea to get their food. "Okay, so, what do you want on your hot dog?"

"Everything but chili." Derek shrugged. "Light on the mustard, though."

"Got it." Stiles moved his way past the other people in their row carefully, looking back over his shoulder to watch the action on the field. Derek glanced at first base, his brow furrowing momentarily as a thought came to mind. It only took a moment to flag down a hawker and get a box of Cracker Jack, setting it carefully on Stiles' arm rest. 

It was still several minutes before Stiles came back, carefully holding two plastic cups of foamy beer and two hot dogs. He laughed at the sight of the Cracker Jack box, then squinted at Derek. "Did 21 do something unspeakably awful while I was gone and you want me to get revenge by getting this in his hair?"

"Your first baseman is fine. But, I hear it's a thing to have, so you should have it." Derek took his hot dog and beer, lifting an eyebrow at Stiles' own. "Just ketchup?"

"Yeah." Stiles took a quick sip of his beer and smirked. "It's my thing, dude. I just don't _relish_ relish." 

Derek shook his head. "I'm not getting into a pun war with you, so don't even start."

"War assumes you have a chance. It would be a pun massacre." Stiles took a very large bite of his hot dog, his cheeks bulging as he chewed, and shrugged.

Rolling his eyes, Derek ate his own hot dog. He finished a bit after Stiles, only noticing as the other man started to open the box of Cracker Jack. Derek snuck his fingers into the box to grab a piece, but frowned when he came out with the prize instead. "Wait, what?" He scowled at it for a moment before Stiles snatched it back.

"Is this an actual prize?" Stiles tore open the little package, his face lighting up when it revealed a metal ring inside. "Oh my god! I thought they just did like stupid jokes and stuff inside now, but I get a ring instead. Tell me, Derek, is this your way of proposing?" He leaned closer to Derek, biting at his lower lip for a moment. "I did think the ring would be a little more expensive, but I'll take what I can get."

Derek took the ring from Stiles, his breath catching in his throat as he adjusted the ring to a size far larger than was intended, holding it up in front of him. "Sure. Stiles Stilinski, will you marry me?"

Stiles slid the ring on, laughing for a moment before stopping as his eyes went wide, only to push forward, giving Derek a rough kiss. He pulled away, his face stretched into a smile that seemed to border on uncomfortable. "I'm sorry," he whispered, Derek only just catching the words over a sudden roar of the crowd. 

Looking up, Derek tried to figure out what had happened on the field, but Stiles reached up to turn his head a little to the camera only feet in front of them and then up to the Jumbotron at the back of the field still showing them. He grinned awkwardly and picked up Stiles' hand with the silly ring on it, holding it up in the air just enough for the camera to catch. The camera lowered and Derek looked over at Stiles. "Okay, so, that happened."

"It did," Stiles said, downing the rest of his beer quickly. "I think you just gave Jackson enough reason to believe, though." He laughed. "I think I almost believed it."

With a sigh, Derek sat back in his seat, only just noticing the congratulatory comments from the people around them that he answered on auto-pilot. He'd almost believed it himself. "There's a good chance that's going to hit the news, you know."

"So, what does that mean?" Stiles shoved entirely too much Cracker Jack in his mouth at once.

Derek waited for a roar to go through the crowd as someone stole third base. "It means that I'm probably going to need to buy you a better ring."

Stiles nodded, his eyes wide. "More and more of this becomes exactly like the lie, you know. That's just... Sometimes I have to remind myself it isn't real."

Looking down at the way Stiles' knee pressed just against his as they sat side by side in matching uniforms, Derek let out a breath. "Yeah. Me too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did what I could for actually setting the scene at Citi Field when I've never actually been there. Same with how any inaccuracies regarding the Mets have everything to do with my lack of familiarity. 
> 
> And because I keep forgetting to reply to comments as I get them, thank you to everyone who's reading and giving kudos/leaving comments/subscribing/etc. It really means a lot to me to see this fic getting such a great response from you guys. <3 Thank you, thank you, thank you!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life, once again, decided to do everything to get in the way of my writing such as making me have to reinstall my operating system and then there was being sick and stuff, too! But, I'm not giving up on this fic and I really do appreciate all of you who continue to read and comment. 
> 
> As a note, there is some infidelity mentioned in this chapter, but it doesn't involve Stiles & Derek. A tag has been added to address the pairing if that's a potential game changer for you.

Stiles was silent on the way home from the airport to the Hale house, his right hand worrying at the new ring on his left hand. It looked as much like the ring from his Cracker Jack box as could be expected out of something made of platinum and precious gems and having been designed for a man. It was... It was crazy. It was, perhaps, not quite as crazy as the fact that Jackson had called when they were on the plane back to California to ask if he could stop by that evening. 

"Pizza?" Derek leaned toward Stiles, smirking when he finally looked up from his hands. "For tonight, with Jackson. Do you want to just order pizza? You don't look like you have it in you to cook right now."

Laughing softly, Stiles nodded. "I'll even call Jackson and tell him to pick it up on his way over. If I'm going to have to act for him, the least he can do is save me a delivery charge and tip."

They pulled down the drive toward the house in more silence, Derek parking the Camaro and reaching over to grab Stiles' hand before he could get out of the vehicle. "If we're going to end this soon even after this, maybe we should start fighting in public."

"About what? Whether we have daffodils, hyacinth, or white orchids at the ceremony? We don't... What do we even argue about for real?" Stiles shrugged. "First, we need to even see what Jackson says. Maybe he still doesn't believe."

Derek nodded. "So, we'll make him believe. Tonight, he's going to leave this house thinking I love you."

His breath hitching, Stiles nodded. "Good."

They got unpacked and Stiles start up a load of laundry, carefully setting aside the chintzy Cracker Jack ring in their room first. With the laundry going in the background, Stiles called Jackson and arranged for him to pick up the pizza, then called in the order and cracked open a bottle of wine that Derek had slid over to him in the kitchen, quickly pouring himself half a glass and draining it just as fast. When the doorbell rang, he hesitated just long enough that Derek wrapped an arm around his shoulders, dragging him toward the door where he pulled it open with a grin. "Jackson! Thanks for bringing the pizza. Stiles was worried the delivery person wouldn't be able to find the place."

Jackson looked them both over carefully, his eyes obviously catching on the new ring. "It's not a problem. Congratulations, by the way. I was watching the game live and couldn't believe when I saw you guys in the stands, and then that proposal? Danny was over and spilled his drink. Lydia was ready to kill him. But, I have to admit: if there's a perfect proposal for a guy like Stilinski, I think that was it."

Derek rubbed at the back of his neck, smirking. "Well, I'd kind of already given him a ring before, but that wasn't so much for a proposal as it was just appreciating the place he had in my life. It wasn't how I'd planned it, actually. I was going to do it on the plane back home, but you're right that that moment was just too perfect to waste."

Stiles took a deep breath and let himself relax at the sudden soft look that Jackson gave them. "Hey, bring that pizza in the dining room and we'll eat. We just got home a bit ago and I've been running around, so let me grab plates and stuff and I'll be in there in a sec. Wine okay with you? I don't even know what it was I opened just a minute ago, but it's delicious. It's something white, anyway."

"It's a Verdejo," Derek said with a snort. "We got two pizzas essentially covered in salad. A tart white goes fine with it."

Jackson smiled. "Sure. You guys are the ones we're celebrating, so I'm good with whatever you want."

Smirking back, Stiles headed to the kitchen, leaving Derek to turn to Jackson. "So, do you finally believe?"

Crossing his arms in front of him, Jackson's lips tightened. "I do. And I'm sorry I doubted you. Stiles... He deserves someone like you, y'know. It's not the money or anything because he can probably get that on his own someday. But, someone who will open up to him? Someone who isn't afraid of how he's going to make them look? I'm trusting you with him, so treat him right."

"Says the guy who basically stole the girl he was in love with?" Derek mirrored Jackson's pose.

Jackson let his arms drop to his sides. "I'm not proud of what I did, but you can't steal a person. Lydia chose me. For whatever reason, Stilinski's chosen you now, and I think it's a good step for him. Don't make me regret thinking that."

Stiles came through from the kitchen with plates, his brow furrowed. "Everything okay in here?"

Derek nodded. "Just fine. I was about to ask Jackson what Lydia's up to."

Pouring himself a tall glass of wine, Jackson took a sip. "She's out of town for some meeting. I talked to her this morning, though and told her about your engagement. She expressed a desire to discuss wedding planners with you. She's probably going to recommend the one we used, but just don't. That woman charged out the ass and steamrolled the whole thing. I ended up wearing a fucking purple paisley vest with matching bow tie."

"Seriously?" Stiles grimaced and opened up the pizza boxes, pulling a few slices onto his plate. "I mean, I'm sure you worked it, but I remember you talking about how paisley is only suitable for ascots and the inner lining of smoking jackets. Oh, did you ever actually smoke in that smoking jacket you got in college?"

Sucking a bit of cheese off of his fingers as he loaded his own plate, Jackson laughed. "Hookah. I did that one time and decided that was it. But, Lydia accidentally set that jacket on fire a few years ago, so I suppose it ended up a smoking jacket after all."

Derek took a halting breath. "How does someone accidentally set a jacket on fire anyway?" He shook his head. "Never mind. I'd rather not talk about fire if that's okay."

Stiles reached over and took his hand, squeezing it briefly. "Totally. So, for us, red and gold argyle sweater vests and top hats?"

"No." Derek grinned. "I'm a fan of the traditional tuxedo. The top hats, though... I'll consider that."

"Really?" Stiles picked up a slice of his pizza, bringing it up to his mouth. "I'm holding you to that. Besides, I have a feeling Erica already has a file somewhere of everything you want, just ready to bust someone's balls who tries to give you cream colored roses when you specified white."

Jackson snorted. "Stilinski, you really have a thing for strong women, don't you?" He glanced at Derek's arms and smirked. "Or maybe just strength in general."

"Maybe?" Stiles tore off the corner of his crust and shrugged. "I like people who don't hold back. I think it's pretty obvious that I don't exactly have a physical type other than attractive."

"It does make sense why we're friends, then." Jackson finished off his glass of wine with a waggle of his brows. "So, have you discussed a date yet?"

Derek shook his head as he finished chewing. "No. Stiles just landed a big account at work that might take a while and neither of us want to rush things. I promise you'll get your invitation when we send them out."

"I better." Jackson looked over at Stiles, his chin raised. "So, tell me more about work."

Stiles smiled, laughing suddenly. "Yeah, okay. Work." He launched into a talk about what he'd been doing lately, finally relaxed and staying that way through the rest of the night.

* * *

The next morning, after breakfast, Stiles walked up to Derek and straightened his tie. "So, I'm going to work in a bit and I realize that people are going to know about this and they're going to ask about an engagement party because that's what people in the social stratosphere do, isn't it?"

"I'll have Isaac get in contact with you about it. He'll secure a location and get invitations sent out." Derek let his fingers circle around Stiles' wrist. "Unless you'd rather not have to go through that?"

"No!" Stiles laughed, twisting his wrist until he was holding Derek's hand. "It'll be fine. A room filled with people all talking about how perfect we are together? It'll really sell it as long as we have an open bar. Heck, have it at the nearest Hale Hotel and then you can drive sales on rooms that night by getting people blitzed and having my dad make a speech about how any intoxication can adversely affect one's driving."

Derek let his fingers cradle Stiles'. "You're a marketing whiz kid. How did I not find you sooner?"

"Because..." Stiles pulled his hand away suddenly. "Fate hadn't yet decided on the best way to fuck with us?"

"I should get going." Derek let a smile show briefly. "I think I'm probably going to have to work late tonight, just so you know, so don't bother making dinner for me. Peter emailed me about a problem we're having with one of our overseas branches and I'm probably going to have to wait until late before I can get in contact with the branch manager."

Stiles grinned. "Time zones suck, don't they?" He stuck his hands in his pockets awkwardly. "I'll call up a friend, maybe. I should really thank Cora for setting us up. She's definitely one of those harbingers of capital-F Fate for how she got me in the right place at the right time."

Derek nodded and picked up his briefcase. "Good. Have fun and I'll see you in the morning, at least."

"Yeah. Good." Stiles pulled one hand from his pocket and gave a little wave. "Have a good day."

Letting himself out, Derek smiled through the walk to the garage and the drive to work and the preliminary walk through the building, and it only slipped when the elevator doors opened and he saw his uncle kissing a woman with red hair. "Peter." The woman looked up suddenly, her eyes wide and Derek couldn't help his gasp of breath. "Lydia?"

She reached out to grab his jacket sleeve and pulled him into the elevator while groping for the button to close the door and hitting it repeatedly. "Peter, you said he'd be late today!"

Peter shrugged. "I thought he would. He did just get engaged. I figured he'd sleep in with that delectable boy he managed to fall for."

Lydia covered her face with her hands for a moment, then looked up at Derek, her bottom lip trembling. "You can't tell Jackson. We're just having some problems and he told me to do what I needed to for things to be okay and... He doesn't need to know what I was doing."

"I think he'd feel differently." Derek shook his head and looked up at Peter. "I'm guessing you know she's married?"

"It came up in our initial discussion. I didn't find it relevant." Peter sighed. "She's rather good in bed, Derek. I'll ask as a personal favor that you don't tell that pompous douchebag she married that we had a little fun. If a farmer doesn't pick all of the berries from the bush, can he really blame the birds for eating the rest?"

Derek pinched the bridge of his nose. "The only kind of bird you are is a parrot who's learned to say things but doesn't understand yet what they mean. Marriage is a contract. I know you understand that, at least." He looked to Lydia. "I won't tell Jackson." He turned to Peter. "But, in exchange? You're going to stay late to contact the Milan office so I can go home and appreciate the relationship I'm in." He cleared his throat, taking a step back so he was leaning against the wall. "Okay?"

Peter rolled his eyes, but reached up to tuck a lock of Lydia's hair behind her ear. "Fine. Does that work for you, my darling?"

Lydia sucked her bottom lip into her mouth and nodded. "Okay." She hit the button to open the door, setting her shoulders back and regaining her poise. "And now I need to be going. Good day, gentlemen." She stepped out of the elevator and walked quickly toward the exit. 

Peter followed slowly, then turned back to Derek and grinned. "I take it you're not that surprised."

Derek shook his head and hit the button for his floor. "I'm not, but I'd like to be. I'll see you later, Peter." He let the door close and brought a hand up to his forehead, rubbing at his temples and muttering, "What the hell are any of us doing?"

The smile that he'd worn that morning was forgotten by the time he headed home for the day, so lost in his thoughts he forgot to call Stiles to let him know he'd be home after all. He drove back to the preserve, figuring he could have a sandwich or something if there weren't leftovers of something in the fridge that caught his eye.

He noted the extra car in the driveway and forced himself to smile as he walked through the door, setting down his briefcase and taking off his jacket before heading through to the living room. "Stiles, I ended up not having to stay late tonight after all, so..." His words trailed off as he took in the person sitting next to Stiles on the couch. "Cora."

"Derek." The smile that had been on her face melted away as she turned to look at him. "Surprised to see me?"

He reached up to cup at his mouth, already feeling tears forming in his eyes. "Yes! I thought you were dead!"

She let out a startled laugh. "What, in the fire? But, did you ever even look?"

"They said you were one of the bodies found, Cora." Derek knelt down in front of her and pulled her down into a hug. "If I'd thought there was a chance... I'm sorry."

Cora slowly moved her arms around him, her jaw tense. "I was with Gerard at first. I guess when Mom said things were rough with the Argents, she wasn't lying. He said he'd contacted you. I left after a few months and went to Argentina and I came back and suddenly there are no Hales in Beacon Hills."

Derek's teeth clenched. "I called him the day after the fire to ask if he'd heard, and he told me it was just a matter of time until the Hales burned themselves to the ground. He fucking laughed. That's why I broke up with Kate because she just waved that off as an old man having fun." He shook his head, seething mad. "They kept you from me on purpose. I don't... How did you get by?"

"I had an account set up at a different bank that I used to go to every other day to deposit money so I could flirt with the teller guy." She shrugged, a smile curling her lips as she wiped away a tear falling unbidden from the corner of one eye. "He was pretty dense, so there was a lot of money there. Buenos Aires isn't that expensive, especially since I made some friends and shared an apartment after the first year." She laughed. "It was weird to walk past our hotel down there, or to hear people talking about it, but to not want to go near it because it made me think you guys just didn't care. I was stupid not to try to contact you in person and I hate that it took me this long to realize that." 

Stiles cleared his throat suddenly. "Okay, so... I guess I'll just leave you two to talk, then?"

Cora reached out and grabbed his elbow. "No, stay?" She shook her head. "If I hadn't run into you that night... I wouldn't be here."

"You mean if I hadn't puked on your shoes so you followed me home." Stiles ran a hand through his hair and then patted the couch next to him. "Derek? I think you can get up off the floor now, don't you? Come join us in Couchland."

Derek stood, brushing a kiss to Cora's temple and sat down with a soft sigh. "So, you're the Cora who put Stiles and I in a position to meet. Was it because you thought he'd make my life miserable?"

"No. I... He was the first person who really talked to me when I came back, and he told me about this stupid fake boyfriend thing he was doing and it was great to be trusted with that. So, when he told me the next morning that it was you? I figured I'd do what I could. Honestly, I didn't even do much except dress him up and have him wait for me at the restaurant. It surprised the hell out of me when he called to say you were suddenly actually dating, but obviously it worked out." Cora nudged Stiles' shoulder with her own. "I like the ring, by the way."

"I..." Derek inhaled sharply. "Peter will want to know, too." He looked at Stiles. "And, you... I've got something to tell you that you can't tell anyone."

Stiles snorted. "I think I'm pretty good at keeping secrets, Derek." He leaned in closer. "Surely Cora can hear, too?"

Derek looked between them and shrugged. "I ran into Lydia this morning. She's having an affair with Peter." He shook his head. "It was weird. She went on and on about how I had to promise not to tell Jackson, but never mentioned not telling you. So, I'm telling you."

"Huh." Stiles sat back heavily, his mouth hanging open slightly. "That's... Wow. I... Seriously? What the hell?!" He sat forward again, frowning. "She never seemed like that kind of girl."

"Peter's... charismatic." Cora shrugged. "I'm pretty much he was banging my piano instructor and the sensei from my dojo. They didn't like anybody... but they'd both smile at him."

His lip curling, Derek shuddered. "Stiles managed to resist his charm, at least."

Stiles smiled brightly. "I did, didn't I? Granted, it's because it didn't seem like charm but more like slime, but hey. Score one for Stiles Stilinski."

Derek looked at Cora suddenly. "Will you stay the night and have breakfast with us in the morning? I don't want to let you go just yet."

Cora arched an eyebrow as she looked at Stiles. "You making waffles again?"

"Nope. French toast and bacon." He lifted his own brow. "Acceptable?"

With a smirk, Cora shrugged. "Oh, I suppose." She bit her lip suddenly. "If I'm staying the night, I think this means we need to go get drunk and do karaoke."

Derek groaned, but was already standing. "Oh, fine. In light of your resurrection, I will even let you make my song choices for me."

With a swift kick aimed at Derek's shin, Cora laughed. "I wasn't resurrected, you asshole! But, I'm still making you sing some Ke$ha."

Stiles covered his mouth with his hand as he laughed hard enough that he doubled over, clutching his side with his other hand. He finally sat up with a gasp of breath and pointed to the door to the lower level. "Okay, folks. Let's go sing. I have work tomorrow and will therefore be avoiding hard liquor, but I don't need to be plastered to karaoke."

When Derek grinned at the idea, Cora jabbed him with her elbow. "You really like this dork, don't you?"

"I..." Derek watched as Stiles hopped over an ottoman to make his way downstairs more quickly. "I do."

Cora smiled. "Good. I'm glad." She strode off after him, though she walked around the ottoman.

Derek took a deep breath and joined them, hoping against hope that Cora would at least choose some songs he kind of knew.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the wait, guys! Between health issues and medicine-induced writer's block, I just haven't been in the headspace for this fic, so have this extra-long chapter as my promise that I will be finishing this at some point and I hope it won't be too much longer.

Stiles was in the middle of work a few days after the announcement of his engagement to Derek when he got a phone call from the receptionist at the front desk whose name he could never seem to remember. Constance, maybe? "Mr. Stilinski? There's a man here to see you."

"Is it another reporter?" Stiles couldn't help the sigh that came after his words. They had learned his name thanks to a hastily put together press release, but now they were starting to come after him at work to ask questions.

There was a pause before the receptionist answered. "I don't think so? He says he's a friend of yours."

"Thanks. I'll be down in a minute." Stiles hung up and rubbed at the bridge of his nose before getting up from his desk and heading toward the elevator. It took forever to get to the lobby, pausing on every floor for someone to get on or off, but when it reached the ground, Stiles took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and headed out to greet his guest with a smile. The smile widened when he saw Jackson. "Hey. What brings you to this part of town?" He sucked in a breath suddenly, remembering Derek's admission about seeing Lydia and Peter together the previous day.

Jackson shook his head. "Is there any way we can go somewhere a little more private for this?"

Stiles held up a finger and then dashed over to the reception desk. "Hey, I'm going to run over to the cafe next door with my friend, so hold my calls and tell anyone who needs me that they can call me, I guess?" He didn't wait for a reply before continuing on to say, "Okay, cool. Thanks." He gestured to Jackson to join him, then led the way outside and over to the small cafe he rarely went to because it wasn't a proper restaurant and his office actually had good coffee.

They got drinks and some of the pastries on display, then took a table in the back corner where Stiles looked at Jackson expectantly until the other man spoke. "I... I was in Sacramento around lunchtime and I saw Derek."

Stiles lifted an eyebrow and took a sip of his coffee, his nose wrinkling at the slightly bitter aftertaste of such a dark roast. "Yeah, okay. I saw him this morning. Did you guys intentionally meet up or something?"

"Not... I saw him _with_ someone." Jackson shook his head. "I was actually walking along with Danny and we saw a couple kissing and then I recognized Derek. And... Look, Stilinski. I didn't believe you guys were the real deal at first, but I believe it now and you can't... You can't let him get away with that. You deserve better than that."

Picking at the corner of his croissant, Stiles tries to decide what to ask first. "Was it a woman?"

Jackson glanced up from his muffin, then did a double take. "What, you knew?!"

"Chill, Jackson. If it's who I think it was, it was his ex. We ran into her at a thing for Hale Hotels like a week ago because she's dating someone there. They talked about having lunch together. I'm not going to jump into a jealous rage because he kissed someone. If it was a woman I don't know? Well, hey. There's some parts there I don't have so I can maybe understand the appeal, but we'll need to talk about things. I'd rather not assume until after I ask how his day was, though." Stiles took a deep breath. "Would you want to know if you were being cheated on?"

It seemed to take ages for Jackson to chew enough of his muffin to speak. "Of course. I mean, I don't think Lydia would, but-"

"She is." Stiles let his eyes shut tightly as he spoke. "Apparently, Derek went into work when his uncle wasn't expecting him and there he was. And there she was. And they confirmed it and Lydia asked Derek not to tell you. But, he told me. So, I'm telling you." He let his eyes open slowly. "That's all I know about it, but it was eating away at me about whether to say anything and I want you to know that I never harbored any delusions that she was a nice person, but I did think she was better than that, and... Jackson?"

Jackson shook his head, his breathing coming in short gasps as he clutched the edge of the table. "She..." He pounded his fist against the table hard enough that both of their coffees spilled, then clenched his teeth together as he looked at Stiles. "I can't believe she would do that."

"Peter Hale is a lot of things, from what Derek has said. Ethical and moral don't quite make the list, but charming still does." Stiles shrugged, mopping up the spilled coffee with a few napkins and the reaching over to pull Jackson into a tight hug. "It takes two to cheat, so don't put it all on him... but don't put it all on her, either?"

Squeezing the bridge of his nose, Jackson gritted his teeth. "Then who the _hell_ am I supposed to blame, Stilinski? Myself? Because my wife couldn't tell me that I wasn't enough. Fucking shit."

Rolling his eyes, Stiles reached over to grab a chunk of Jackson's muffin, shoving it into the other man's mouth in such a way that crumbs clung to his face. "Jackson. Back in school, you knew I liked Lydia and you did everything you could to hide it from me that you did, too. And, in a way? Good job being a bro. But, the second you asked her out and she said yes? You should have told me to back off. And I know this seems like a really weird time to bring that up, but I want to show that you have this history of pretending that things are fine when they're not. Remember, I was there when you tried to drink yourself into a stupor over the C+ you got in that theatre class you took, thinking it'd be easy. But, you've got to learn to talk and be honest about this shit because it's apparently led to your wife thinking it's okay to seek carnal enjoyment elsewhere and with a total skeeze."

"I need proof. I don't want to say something to her and have her just say you're just getting back at me or something for what a dick I was." Jackson's jaw was clenched. "Hale Hotels have to have, like, security cameras that show everything, right?"

Stiles shrugged. "I don't know, Jackson. Isn't this where you're supposed to go hire a private eye or something and have them go at it with their telephoto lens and bring you everything you need to get it all in the divorce?"

Jackson's eyes widened. "No. I don't want to divorce her. I just... if I go up to her without proof, then she could deny it."

"You..." Stiles huffed out a breath. "Wow. You came here to tell me you thought Derek was cheating on me and that I couldn't let him get away with that, but you actually want to stay with Lydia despite it."

Jackson's shoulders slumped forward. "Look. I... For years, Lydia's been my everything. I go to work, and everything I do is for Lydia. I come home, and everything I do is for Lydia. She's been spending less time with me lately, but I just figured it was the fact that the business is growing so fast and she just wanted to get away from it a little more. She chose me once. I just didn't think that was subject to change for some reason. So, I want to show her I know and I want her to be in a place where she'll listen that I love her and want to get past this somehow. And, besides, if I go down to that hotel to get that footage, maybe I'll run into that asshole and I can punch him in the face."

Stiles snorted. "If you punch Peter Hale in the face, I can just about guarantee that he'll either tear you limb from limb or put you in prison for the rest of your life." He shook his head gently. "I know it's rough. But, here's the thing... you didn't question it. Like, at all. So, you suspected. Whether it's because she's been pulling away for a while and you're just noticing or it's been a sudden thing? You suspected, even if you didn't realize it. But, if you're committed to staying with her despite it? You're right that you need to be up front about it and you're also right that that footage would probably help so she can't deny it. So, I'm going to go back to work and I'm going to let them know I'm taking a half day so I can go down to do some scouting for Deucalion because, hey, he just sunk a ton of money into Hale Hotels so it's not a complete lie. And then you and I are going to road trip down there with beef jerky and root beer and whatever else we grab at the convenience store on the way out of town, and we're going to go see what we can do."

"You're gonna be my Veronica Mars?" Jackson's lips curved into a smirk suddenly. "I don't think your skirts are short enough."

Returning the smirk, Stiles leaned closer. "You wish you could see that much of my legs, fuckhead. Now, sit here and finish your coffee and get ready to put on your big boy pants to be an adult. I don't know if this is going to work, really, but I'm going to try."

Jackson nodded. "Thanks, Stilinski. It's more than I expected, and way more than you owe me."

"Hey..." Stiles stood up awkwardly, shoving the rest of his pastry toward Jackson. "Let what's in the past stay there now, okay?"

Shoving a giant piece of muffin into his mouth, Jackson nodded and waved Stiles off with the lifting of his coffee.

It hardly took any convincing at all to get the rest of the day off, nor did it take much time at all for Stiles to get Jackson and practically shove him in the passenger side of his Jeep before heading toward where Derek would, in theory, be. Unless Jackson hadn't been talking about Jennifer, or there was something else going on that would make the jealousy that seemed to build up in his chest something real. He made Jackson get out for their snacks and took a moment to call Derek, his stomach twisting in knots until the other man answered the phone. "Stiles?"

"Yeah. So, uh, Jackson came to me saying he'd seen you cheating on me and I ended up telling him about Lydia, so he's getting us beef jerky and we're headed over there to try to get surveillance footage of Lydia with Peter and I need you to make sure that can, like, happen?" Stiles pulled off his tie, carefully folding it before tossing it in the backseat.

Derek hummed softly. "Yeah. Come up to Erica's office and either she or Isaac will help you. I'm over at the bank signing some stuff right now, but I should be back a bit after you get here and I'll stop in to see you." He paused. "Thank you for telling him. And, I know it doesn't really matter, but I had lunch with Cora today. She's going to become a partner in the company again, so Peter and I are having to deal with a lot of lawyers. Honestly, tell Jackson to sue him. Right now, I doubt Peter would even notice."

Chuckling softly, Stiles leaned his head back. "Are you mad at Peter for violating the sanctity of our future marriage born out of our fake love?"

"I'm mad at Peter for a lot of things. What's one more for the list? I'm just finally in a position where getting back at him doesn't leave me completely alone." Derek huffed out a breath. "Look, my lawyer is giving me the stink-eye and I still need to call Erica, so I'll see you in a bit, okay?"

"Yeah." Stiles ran his thumb along the steering wheel as Jackson climbed into the Jeep, handing over a cream soda. 

Derek chuckled softly. "Great. Love you."

"Love you, t-" Stiles swallowed suddenly, pulling his phone away from his ear, glad that it said the call was ended. He turned toward Jackson, grabbing the cream soda. "Dude, you remembered?"

Jackson shrugged. "I never forgot, weirdo. Teriyaki beef jerky and cream soda. I've got a pack of Skittles for you, too, but I know you'll eat them on the way back. Was that Derek?"

Stiles nodded, cracking open the seal on the drink and taking a long sip. "Yeah. He said you actually saw him with his sister, Cora."

"Hale's got a sister?" Jackson snorted. "Yeah, right."

"Oh, shit, I didn't tell you, did I?" Stiles took a deep breath, securing his drink in a cup holder before starting the Jeep and putting it into first gear, pulling out of the parking lot a moment later. "So, turns out that the Argent family went so far to fuck over the Hales that they hid the fact that the youngest daughter, Cora, didn't actually die in the fire. She's been living in Argentina for the last few years and we actually met when I accidentally puked on her shoes in a bar and... anyway. That doesn't matter. What matters is that I didn't actually know who she was at first, and then Derek came home early and Cora was there and they had this big reunion thing and now he's actually talking with the bank and lawyers and all of that to get her back in the company."

Jackson shook his head. "She could be anyone. Weren't you the one always reading all of those stupid books about people who got plastic surgery and shit in order to put themselves in a place where people would assume they were someone else in order to get an inheritance or something?

Shrugging, Stiles pulled onto the freeway, speaking loudly to be heard over the sounds of the Jeep at higher speeds than it was really designed for. "Derek recognized her immediately. And, besides, he trusts people. He might be stupid about it, but he trusts them and it's kind of a beautiful thing and I don't want him to start doubting himself. Besides, Peter's money is at stake, too, so he'll likely get a PI or something and be the bad guy to Derek's good guy and it'll all work out. And if it isn't Cora? Well, we'll figure something out." He smirked at Jackson. "It can suck to trust people, but that's part of love."

"Yeah." Jackson cracked open his drink, taking a careful sip. "Do you think I should divorce Lydia?"

"Do I?" Stiles squirmed in his seat, careful to keep his foot on the accelerator. "It's not my marriage, so I don't really get to say. But, if you want my advice on this?" He glanced at Jackson for confirmation, then continued on. "Talk to her first. Dissolving contracts is one of those things she does for a living or whatever, so the fact that she hasn't served you with papers probably means that she thinks there's something worth saving. And as long as you can let yourself do that, too, you guys will be great together. Hell, even when I liked her, I was always baffled by you thinking she wasn't great because everything about her was your type. Lydia might be violating the sanctity of your vows or something, but I also know you probably steal her bath stuff and lie about it and you have to decide whether those things are such wildly different concepts that you should be forgiven but she shouldn't."

Opening one of the packages of beef jerky, Jackson handed it over, taking out a piece and chewing on it slowly, quiet for the rest of the ride as he seemed to mull over Stiles' words until getting to the hotel and pointing toward the valet. "I'll pay for it. I just don't feel like trying to get a spot in the parking garage and then walking." 

Stiles snorted, but did as asked. "Cora made me do the same thing because of her shoes. Let me guess, new Italian loafers?"

"They didn't have them in half-sizes so I went larger and now I have a blister." Jackson pouted and chugged back half of his root beer at once before getting out of the vehicle when Stiles stopped and pushing forward into the hotel before stopping to wait for Stiles.

It took a few minutes to get upstairs to Derek's office, and another before Isaac acknowledged them from his place at one of the desks. "You've got Derek whipped already, don't you?"

Stiles shook his head. "What? No. Why?"

Isaac rolled his eyes. "He asked Erica to get the security office stuff you needed brought up here. In his office."

"Is that... really all that strange?" Stiles looked between Isaac and Jackson, noting the way they seemed to have some kind of silent camaraderie. 

"When I'm not allowed to bring him coffee in there that doesn't have a lid? Yeah. It's a little strange." Isaac smirked. "He must really like you."

Stiles looked at Isaac for a moment, then shrugged. "It's not like I'm going to spill anything. Besides, I've had dinner in here with him before. I think he just doesn't trust you which... I should be concerned because I hear you're kind of seeing Scott now."

Isaac swallowed roughly. "I'm treating him right."

"I didn't say you weren't, dude." Stiles snorted. "Scott's a big boy who can make his own decisions. I'm not going to step in unless I see he's not handling it or if he asks me to. So, y'know, I have no doubt that Derek pays you well even if he doesn't trust you around liquids, so take Scott to Disney or something and make him happy and we'll be fine."

"Erica's in Derek's office, so go right in," Isaac said with a smirk. "She asked me to hold you off for a minute to let her get stuff ready."

Rolling his eyes, Jackson started pushing Stiles toward the office door. "C'mon, Stilinski."

Stiles let them in and waved to Erica. "Hello, gorgeous. What've you got for me?"

"I've got the security interface set up here. I've isolated the day and time you needed to the cameras Derek said were likely options." Erica held up a flash drive. "You can set a start and end point to the video and export it here or capture a screenshot and print it. Do both. I don't care. Anything you do from this terminal won't change anything from where it's stored, so go crazy." She set the flash drive down, then stood up, smoothing down her dress with a smirk at Jackson. "So, I'll send Derek in when he gets up, shall I?"

Scratching at the hair at the nape of his neck, Stiles shrugged. "Is he almost here?"

"Yeah. Cora's coming back with him, I guess." Erica flipped a blonde curl back behind her shoulder. "Get to work. He'll be sad if you're still busy when he comes in and I know he already left the bank, so you don't have long."

Stiles nodded and moved around the desk to take Erica's place, gesturing for Jackson to follow. "Right." He waved as Erica left the room then went to work searching through the files for a section that clearly showed Lydia with Peter. 

"There," Jackson said suddenly, his voice gruff. "The elevator one."

It only took a moment to maximize the frame with that recorded feed and watch as Lydia initiated a kiss with Peter, both of their faces clear enough for positive identification. Stiles was quick to save the file to the flash drive and grabbed one screenshot to print. He looked over to Jackson as the printer whirred to life, pulling him into a sudden hug upon seeing the way Jackson's face showed all of his distress. That was, of course, when the door opened and Derek walked in, smirking. "I leave you alone for a day and..." He stopped and seemed to decide not to finish his sentence as Stiles let Jackson go. "Jackson. How are you holding up?"

Jackson nodded slowly. "It's easier if I imagine punching someone in the face. Like your uncle."

"I'm not going to apologize for him. He knew, so he's a jerk at the very least." Derek gestured toward someone outside the door, smiling as Cora appeared a moment later. "I won't introduce you to Peter after all of that, so I'm glad to be able to introduce you to my sister, Cora. Cora? This is Stiles' friend, Jackson."

Cora waved a bit awkwardly, then moved over to Stiles, pulling him into a quick hug and kissing his cheek. "I'd say any friend of Stiles' is a friend of mine, but that ignores that I've heard that you've been a jerk to him before, so I'd like a little more proof that you've got good intentions before I go inviting you out for drinks."

"That's fair." Jackson grinned. "Better than Stilinski. He forgave me almost immediately but he has people over for drinks. I don't know if he knows how to go out and have fun."

Stiles let his mouth fall open and made a noise of disapproval. "Says the guy who invited me over for poker and drinks at his place with the guys when I saw him for the first time in ages! I'm really glad I creamed you all in that game."

Cora laughed softly. "This poker game thing? This needs to happen again and I'm invited."

Derek groaned. "Please don't turn my home into a den of iniquity."

"Sweetie," Stiles said as he moved over to Derek, putting an arm around his shoulders. "If it's not a den of iniquity already, I'm obviously doing something wrong." He paused, biting his lip when titters of laughter came from Cora and Jackson. "Anyway, so, anything in particular you want for dinner tonight?"

Lifting Stiles' chin with his knuckles, Derek leaned in close, his eyes half closing as he said softly, "You? That'll fill me up." 

Cora burst into laughter, slapping a hand against the desk. "Oh my god, Derek. That is not something you say in front of other people."

Stiles licked his lips, reaching up to cover his cheeks when he realized he could feel himself blushing. He glanced up to see that Derek's ears were bright red and it made him smile softly. "Maybe not in front of polite company, but that's assuming the company is polite. You guys obviously aren't." He cleared his throat. "I think this is a sushi kind of night, actually. And, no, I'm not making it. I'll order it and pick it up on the way home."

Derek nodded, then gripped Stiles' elbow. "Hey, come with me into the other office for a minute, okay?"

Stiles looked between Cora and Jackson and nodded. "Yeah. Jackson, I'll be out in a minute. If you need anything, ask Erica or Isaac." He didn't look back as he followed Derek to large room still almost entirely filled with a conference table. Once the door closed, he laughed nervously. "The saying you love me on the phone. That was a good touch. Really selling it. And just now? That, too."

Taking a sharp breath, Derek reached up to rub at his eyes. "Look, I... I don't want to make you uncomfortable. But, you're right that we need to sell this. No one questions that I'd want you, and you say it's the same for you. So, maybe we need to look like we're entering that, you know, honeymoon phase."

"So, what, we make out in public a little and leave some hickeys on each other?" Stiles shook his head the second Derek's expression started to turn sour. "I'm just clarifying. I'm not against that at all. If you want that, I'm all for it. I'm in. And if you mean something else, then explain it a little better?"

Derek nodded. "That. You got it. And... maybe since I dragged you in here, you need to give me the first one."

"What, now?" Stiles ran a hand through his hair, his nervous laughter seeming to echo in the room.

"Yeah." Derek's hands cupped Stiles' face as he leaned in closer. "But, some making out first so it doesn't look odd. Is that okay?"

Stiles closed the distance between them, answering with actions instead of words just how okay it was. It was a heady thing to kiss Derek so firmly in a conference room with people waiting for them only a few feet away. 

Even as a lie, it felt like exactly what he wanted to be doing, his jaw scraped at regular intervals by Derek's facial hair as they shifted positions, their tongues tentatively getting in on the action until, a moment later, Derek jerked back. "Why do you taste like teriyaki?"

"Beef jerky," Stiles said distractedly, as he pulled Derek back in, starting to kiss down his throat and feeling a thrum of warmth go through him as Derek's head tilted back to allow him better access. It was an easy thing to yank on his tie to loosen the collar away from Derek's throat, and somehow even easier to let himself move the material aside just enough to work his mouth against the spot where Derek's pulse pounded most strongly, then down a bit further, starting to suckle at the flesh as Derek's hands fisted in the material of Stiles' shirt. When he gasped softly, the sound loud in Stiles' ear, Stiles gave a final hard suck and moved back, his eyes wide. "Okay, so... that."

Derek, wide-eyed and undone, took a deep breath. "Yeah, that." He cleared his throat and moved to fix his tie. "We should get back."

"I need to drop off Jackson so he can go confront Lydia and then get sushi, but I'll be home right after that and we can, uh, talk about this some more or something." Stiles took a moment to straighten his own shirt, tucking it in where Derek's motions had unsettled it.

"Okay. I'll be done here soon, too." Derek opened the door, looking sheepish as he entered the larger room where Erica immediately began catcalling them. "Shut up," he muttered, unable to hide the grin that was forming.

Stiles cleared his throat. "Okay. Sorry. Um, Jackson? We should get going. I have no clue how the traffic is going to be right now and you said you have Skittles for me besides."

Jackson held up a hand. "Nice meeting you all," he said, other hand clutching a manila envelope that Stiles assumed held the photo and jump drive.

Derek lifted his chin in response. "Good luck with Lydia."

"Thanks. I'd say good luck with Stilinski, but that's looking more and more like something you don't need any luck for." Jackson quirked one brow up, smirking, and led the way, making Stiles trail behind.

Stiles looked back to see Derek staring at him like Stiles' remembered his dad looking at his mom back when she was alive. He wanted to applaud the man. He'd managed to go from being charming to gruff in their first meeting, so it shouldn't surprise him that Derek could manage enamored, but it almost hurt to see that look directed at him by a man who didn't mean it. It only made Stiles wonder if his face betrayed how much he was really beginning to feel for the other man... other than the gentle burn around his mouth from Derek's facial hair.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the long wait for this chapter. Everything has conspired against my writing lately, so you get a kind of short chapter now and another as soon as I can get it done.

Stiles woke with a groan. The surprising thing about it was that the groan hadn't been his own. He opened his eyes, turning in the bed and immediately scooting away from Derek. "Dude, you look awful."

Shaking his head very slowly, Derek coughed, grimacing afterward. "I'll be fine."

Pursing his lips, Stiles reached up to touch Derek's forehead, frowning at how warm it was. "I think you've got a fever. Like, the kind of fever that means you're not getting out of bed today."

"I've got a conference call at noon." Derek struggled to push off the blankets, starting to sit up before collapsing back down. "Everything's spinning, though."

"Oh, dizziness. Perfect complement to a fever. Lay back and just... yeah. I'm going to call Erica for you and get her to figure out something for the conference." Stiles patted Derek's shoulder before leaning across him to grab his phone off of his nightstand, disconnecting it from the charger before crawling out of bed. "I'll be back in a minute." He was already typing in Derek's passcode, pausing in the doorway of the room in shock at the realization that he knew it. He took a single glance back at Derek before finding Erica's name in the contacts and hitting send.

It took a moment for Erica to answer, just enough time for Stiles to walk to the kitchen. "Derek? I'm going to kill you. You made me fuck up my eyeliner."

Stiles cleared his throat. "Derek... is sick today and won't be able to make that conference call, so I was trying to give you plenty of time to reschedule or make Peter do it or whatever your heart desires."

Erica hummed for a moment. "Does this mean I'm in charge today?"

"I don't know. That depends on whether you have Peter under your thumb." Stiles opened the refrigerator, pulling out the orange juice and setting it on the counter. "I'm going to assume you do, so sure. Be in charge today."

Making a noise a lot like a purr, Erica started to laugh. "Tell Derek not to worry. I've got this. I assume you're staying there to take care of him?"

Stiles glanced at the container of orange juice, then grabbed for another glass. "Yeah, I think I'm going to make sure he's good to go for a bit. Call me if you need anything, I guess? He looks like he just needs to spend the whole day in bed."

"Got it. If I need anything signed that Peter can't take care of, I'll send Isaac by with it later. Thanks, Stiles." Erica hung up, leaving Stiles to shove his phone in the pocket of his pajama bottoms. He took several minutes to throw together a quick tray of food that Derek might be willing to eat, and walked down the hall with it all, already groaning about having to call into work for himself.

Derek lay on the bed, looking dazed. "I'm sick."

Putting down the tray, Stiles nodded. "Yup. Happens to the best of us. I, uh, put Erica in charge? So, don't worry. And I'm going to stay home to take care of you because it seems like you don't get sick often and therefore have absolutely no idea what to do for it. That said, I didn't stock this place with medicine, so I'm going to head out and get some stuff for you."

"Don't." Derek shook his head, looking suddenly small as he pulled his blankets up to his chin. "Stay with me?"

Stiles opened his mouth, but couldn't seem to find words to say. Instead, he held out a glass of orange juice and stared at Derek until he took it. "I'll, uh.. I'll need to make a few calls, then." Derek nodded, struggling to sit up slightly so he could begin sipping at his juice. Stiles replaced Derek's phone on his nightstand and grabbed his own, calling work first to leave a message that he wouldn't be coming in, and then sending out a mass text to people who might be in town who could run an errand for him. He received several responses, but ended up calling Boyd. 

"So, Derek. Is he pathetic when he's sick?" Boyd asked in lieu of a greeting.

Stiles rolled his eyes. "I don't know. We kind of just got up like thirty minutes ago. But, he asked me not to go and I couldn't tell him no. So, I need medicine and chicken noodle soup and... I don't even know what. No one's been sick since we moved in here, so it's like we've got nothing. Buy whatever and bring it to me and I'll pay you back, okay?"

Bod hummed. "My little sister always liked popsicles when she was sick. Think that's something Derek might want?" 

Stiles' phone beeped while Boyd spoke, distracting him as he wandered through the bathrooms, looking in the medicine cabinets just in case. "Yeah. If he won't eat them, I will. Thanks, Boyd. See you soon." Closing the cabinet and grimacing at his own reflection, Stiles headed back to the room and sat back down on the bed, looking at Derek. "Do not get me sick. Although, if I'm not already, the chances are pretty good I'm not going to catch your cooties."

Derek laughed softly, coughing afterward and waving Stiles away when he tried to come closer. "Want you to have my cooties."

"You..." Stiles raised his eyebrows, shaking his head slightly. "I hope Boyd gets here soon with medicine because that's a hell of a fever you've got." He picked up a piece of lightly buttered toast and held it out to Derek. "Here. Eat this. I can hear how much snot is in your head so you've probably got awful post nasal drip and I'd rather you not be sick to your stomach, too. I'm happy to take care of you right now, but we are not yet close enough for vomit to be an okay exchange of bodily fluids and... Hey. Derek?"

Eyes sliding closed, Derek reached out and grabbed Stiles' wrist, pulling him closer. "Feed it to me." He pulled Stiles until he was laying next to Derek, close enough that Stiles could feel the heat from Derek's body.

Lips pursed, Stiles looked Derek over, noting the sweat beaded on his brow and the dryness of his lips. "O-okay. But only because this is a chance to practice that kind of much vaunted couples intimacy stuff." He tore off a corner of the toast, pressing it to Derek's mouth. His jaw clenched when Derek's mouth opened and he took the toast in, his tongue just touching the end of Stiles' fingers. "Dude. Seriously. How out of it are you?"

Derek's eyes opened, his expression serious as he chewed and swallowed. "Not very. I... Look. I'm going to just lay it out here." He paused to cough, then reached up to wipe his nose with the back of his hand. "I want this to be real."

His heart suddenly thumping loudly enough that he could hear it in his own ears, Stiles dropped the toast on the bed and sat up. "But, you don't like me."

"I was hesitant to like you." Derek pressed his head into the pillow, reaching up to rub at his temple. "You grew on me. Like fungus."

Stiles laughed softly. "You're insane."

"Sick." Derek groaned and turned onto his side a bit more. "I've just been laying here realizing that I don't want to waste more time on this if it's going nowhere. And if it could go somewhere, then I don't want to wait any longer on that, either."

Picking up the toast and grimacing at the stain the butter left on the bedspread, Stiles tossed it onto the tray and looked at Derek, pulling his knees up to his chest. "You don't have to wait. I... I want that, too. I think I've wanted it to be real since about thirty seconds after it started as something fake."

Reaching over, Derek grabbed Stiles' hand and held it in his own. "Good. I took a little longer than that, I think, but not much."

"So, the whole wedding thing... that still happening?" Stiles bit his lower lip, his thumb caressing the back of Derek's hand. 

"Yes?" Derek grinned, his eyes bright. "We can extend the engagement, though. I don't want to actually rush into this. I think it would do us good to have some time to figure us out when neither of us is faking anything."

Stiles shook his head, smiling at Derek. "This is so much easier than I thought it would be. But, looking back, it's all felt really easy. And maybe that's why it feels right."

"I don't know if it's too soon to say, or too late to hold back... but I think I love you." Derek shrugged, then wiped his nose again. "And I hate to take us out of the moment here, but do you know if there are any tissues anywhere?"

Standing up, Stile moved toward the door. "I know I saw some not that long ago. Give me a sec to..." He paused, looking back at Derek. "I think I love you, too." He grinned. "Now, use the covers for your nose if you need to. There's butter on them anyway." He left the room and began searching through the living room, grabbing the tissue box he found and bringing it back to Derek. "Here you go."

Derek took a tissue and immediately blew his nose, groaning as he wadded it up and dropped it on his nightstand. "I hate the way blowing my nose makes my head feel when I'm sick. It's like I set off a bomb inside my brain."

"It's just the pressure being unable to equalize. Eat something. The chewing will help that sensation go away." Stiles picked up the other piece of toast he'd brought in the room and began to feed it to Derek in earnest, enjoying the way he could revel in the knowledge that every glance Derek gave him had something positive behind it. They lay together for a while until Stiles looked up at the sound of the doorbell and grinned. "Must be Boyd. I'm going to go let him in. Be back in a few."

At the door, Boyd was grinning and holding up several large reusable bags. "If you need it and it isn't in here? You don't need it." He walked inside when Stiles moved for him. "You doin' okay?"

Stiles reached up to scrub at his face. "Yeah. Derek's just a little... effusive when he's sick, apparently."

"Generally people think that's a good thing?" Boyd walked into the kitchen, setting down the bags on the counter. "Unless he was saying something you don't like."

"No, it's..." Stiles began picking through the bags, nodding at the choices Boyd had made and going ahead and tearing open the package of medicine. "I liked it. A lot. It was a little unexpected, I guess? But, appreciated." He struggled to get the pills out of the blister pack, but eventually succeeded. "Hey, I'm going to go bring this to Derek and I'll be right back." He rushed down the hallway, delivering the medicine to Derek who gave him a sleepy smile.

After taking a large gulp of his juice, Derek settled back on the bed. "Go hang out with Boyd for a bit. I think I'm going to try to sleep a little bit more."

Stiles reached down to caress Derek's cheek. "I'll come in a little later to check on you, then." He leaned down, kissing Derek's forehead, and headed back out to the kitchen where Boyd had finished unpacking the bags. "Oh, thanks. I could have done that."

Boyd blinked at him. "It's not a big deal. Hey, you want to see if there's a game on?"

"Sure!" Stiles found the remote, fiddling with it a bit until he managed to turn the television on and get it tuned to the sports channels. "Oh, hey, yesterday's Mets game is being shown. You mind watching with me?"

Boyd snorted, but sat down on the couch. "I haven't had a chance to say it yet, but congratulations on the engagement. You look happy, man. Happier than you ever did back then."

Stiles shrugged. "There's a lot to be happy about now. There wasn't then."

"You always did this, though. Fought hard through everything and then managed to be the one who came out on top. Of everyone from back then, I think it's pretty obvious you're the most successful." Boyd jerked a thumb toward the kitchen. "I saw some popcorn in the cupboard. I'm gonna make it if that's cool."

"Sure." Stiles watched as Boyd moved through the house, grinning to realize how comfortable he'd become within the walls. "And I don't think I'm the most successful. You own your own business, dude. So do Lydia and Jackson. Greenberg is becoming a recognized name around here. I just lucked into meeting the right guy at the right time which set everything else on its path."

Boyd shrugged. "So you got lucky. All I'm saying? Everybody can see just how lucky you are." He entered the kitchen, the sounds of the microwave and popping corn echoing out a few moments later.

They ended up sitting and watching the game, nibbling on popcorn, for the better part of an hour. It was only when Stiles heard a vehicle pull up outside that he turned off the television, standing and slowing moving toward the door. "I guess maybe that's Isaac? He's supposed to be bringing over anything that Derek might need to sign, but it wasn't supposed to be until the end of the-" His eyes went wide as the door opened and Cora rushed in, eyes wide. "Cora?"

"You asshole! Why is no one answering my texts?!" She ran a hand through her hair, obviously distressed. "We've kind of got a few gigantic problems."

Stiles closed the door and turned to Cora, his eyebrows raised. "Like how Derek's sick?"

Cora shook her head. "That is not even on the radar of what is bad right now." She took a deep breath, her hands coming together to clasp in front of her. "Word got out that Deucalion chose your firm because of you. And that Hale Hotels chose you guys, too. And people are alleging that you're sleeping with Derek and Deucalion for their accounts. People are throwing around phrases like prostitution and insider trading." She huffed out a sigh. "I don't know what's going to happen, but there are people calling for you to be fired and possibly arrested."

"What?" Stiles reeled back, forcing himself to take deep breaths and lean against the wall until he no longer felt like panic was going to overwhelm him. "This... I mean... Fuck." He took another deep breath. "I'm going to call Lydia. I never figured I'd actually need her legal services, but if I'm going to need a lawyer, I might as well have a good one." He pulled his phone from his pocket and rolled his eyes at the notification messages. "I must have accidentally muted it. And Derek's sick so he must have muted his, too. Anyway, here goes." He called, gave Lydia a quick synopsis of what was happening, and arranged a meeting. He turned to Cora and bit his lip. "Stay here and check on Derek. I'll be back in a little while. Feel free to hang out with Boyd. He's a great guy." He grabbed his keys off of the hook and started to head out the door.

Boyd called out suddenly, "Stilinski. Do you maybe want to put on real clothes?"

Looking down at his pajamas, Stiles stood tall and marched toward his bedroom, carefully letting himself in and throwing on the first publicly acceptable outfit he could find. He paused to check on Derek, carefully pushing back a lock of sweaty hair on his forehead. He was out the door a moment later, and driving toward Lydia's office with his jaw clenched in panic, anger, and confusion.


	13. Chapter 13

"I don't know what the hell is happening, Lydia!" Stiles sat back heavily in the chair she'd directed him to sit in, wondering how bad it would look to stop by work afterward to see what his boss had to say.

Lydia pulled the cap off of her pen and began taking notes on a legal pad. "I Googled you and got the gist of things. I have reason to believe it's just sour grapes from your company's competitor who got shut down on the Hale Hotels account, but we'd need to get a private investigator to confirm it before launching a suit against them. As for dealing with the current situation? I can maybe set up a press conference for now. There are no charges against you. It's all rumor. So, getting out your side of the story should be our priority to help mitigate further rumors, but I'll be honest. It looks kind of bad."

Stiles rubbed at the back of his neck, groaning. "I don't even freaking work on Derek's account anymore and I did absolutely nothing to court Deucalion to our firm. He met me and decided that I needed to be working for him which, I'm flattered, sure? But this is fucking nonsense."

"I'm not disagreeing." Lydia crossed her arms over her chest, lips pursed. "You should call your office and talk to your boss about this. We need to know what they intend on doing about this, too."

Pulling his phone from his pocket, Stiles waggled it in the air. "Can do. Might as well do it now. If they haven't heard yet, they're going to soon." He called work and dialed the extension for his boss.

"Hello. Dickson speaking." The man sounded frazzled, sending a shiver up Stiles' spine.

Taking a deep breath, Stiles cleared his throat. "Hello, Mr. Dickson. This is Stiles Stilinski calling. I'm trying to give your a heads-up on a situation I've just-"

"Stilinski? I know all about your damn situation. And you had the nerve to call out today. You're fired. I'll have someone box up your things and send them to you. They'll be expecting to pick up your badge, too. Don't make this difficult. Good day." The line went dead a moment later.

Stiles looked up at Lydia, his eyes wide. "I just got fired."

Lydia looked up briefly from where she was writing furiously. "You mean we just got the start of a wrongful termination lawsuit."

"Look, I don't..." Stiles sighed in frustration, his fingers curling around the ends of the arms of the chair he was in, fingertips turning white from the pressure. "I don't want to sue to get my job back, Lydia. I love that job. I know litigation is your life, but if I have to do that to get back there, then things will always be awkward. No. I need to prove that I'm good at my job and that the reason Hale Hotels went with us is because we just had the better plan."

Licking her lips, Lydia leaned forward. "That's not exactly my area of expertise."

"You're right. But, it's kind of mine." Stiles pinched the bridge of his nose. "How big of a focus group do you think I can get if I set up survey stations across the greater Sacramento area?"

"Enough?" Lydia suddenly inhaled sharply only to huff out the air a moment later. "You know, I don't get you, Stiles. After everything that I put you through... and what I put Jackson through... why come to me? How can you even trust me?"

Stiles shrugged. "For one, because Jackson does, even now. Because you took my call and arranged this meeting even though I'm the one who told him and got him the proof he needed. You told Derek not to tell him, and I know you're smart enough to tell him not to tell me even in the heat of the moment so I know you wanted out with Peter, but couldn't think how to do it without offending him in a way that might destroy everything you'd built. You made a stupid mistake and kept making it. But, as a lawyer? You're damn good. I loved you all of those years ago because of the way you attacked a problem. There wasn't one you couldn't solve. Yet, you've always been a little bad about recognizing when people liked you for more than just your face. You never saw me like that. But, I'm glad. Because I don't need the prom queen here. I need someone in my court who's been my friend all along. Someone who believes in me. Did I choose wrong?"

Shaking her head, Lydia scribbled something else on her notes. "No. I... I want to hate you for telling Jackson. But, I couldn't bring myself to do it, so I'm actually kind of grateful that you did. I was just so young when I got together with Jackson. I never really had anything else. Anyone else. And you've met Peter. He tells you all of those things that you swear you've been waiting your whole life to hear. And I screwed up. I ruined everything with a split second decision where I chose wrong. And once it happened once, Peter just- Argh!" She reached up to dab away the tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. "I'm just so angry with myself. And I have no clue where to start fixing things with Jackson because, you're right. Relationships have always been the thing that I'm bad at."

"Lydia." Stiles plucked a tissue out of the holder on Lydia's desk, handing it over to her and watching as she dabbed away her tears and wiped her nose. "Have you tried telling Jackson all of this?"

Waving the tissue in front of her, Lydia's face screwed up into an expression Stiles couldn't quite read. "He's staying with Danny right now. I haven't talked to him since he came home and just put that damn picture in front of me and just waited in silence. I couldn't say anything and then... And then he just left. He must have gone shopping and bought new clothes or something because he didn't take anything with him and it there's any guy who'll engage in retail therapy, it's him. Danny called to let me know Jackson wouldn't be in for work, so that's how I figured out where he was."

Getting up and walking around to Lydia's side of the desk, Stiles turned her chair and leaned down to give her a hug, holding her tight for as long as she clung to him. When he finally pulled away, he pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear and crouched down in front of her. "Lydia Whittemore. You're one of the bravest women I know. You know where Danny lives. You have to know that Jackson looks at you like you hung the moon; like you're every beam of light from the sun; like you're a freaking mermaid princess frolicking in the waves beside his ship. Go there and tell him that you want to make this work. Talk to him and don't stop until you've said everything. I can almost guarantee that he'll listen to every word because he loves you. Now, speaking of love, I should head back home and let Derek know what's going on."

"I'm not billing you for today," Lydia said suddenly.

Stiles snorted. "I don't need your charity. I'm pretty well-off now, y'know."

She rolled her eyes. "No. Not charity or a friendship discount or anything. I didn't really help you today. You're the one who managed to solve all of the problems. Maybe even mine. So, I'm charging you for the consultation. But, I'm paying for it in exchange for the marriage counseling."

"Right." Stiles smiled. "I hope I don't have to contact you anymore about this, but-"

"But you will. Because if you're going to run survey stations across the city, you need people to run them. I have plenty of interns I can send to you. They're pretty useless around here, honestly. Might as well make them do something that might help someone instead of ruining yet another of my dresses with coffee stains or making even more work for the paralegals."

Grinning, Stiles held out his hand, gripping hers and shaking it firmly. "Glad to have you on my team."

Lydia smirked at him, her eyes still a bit wet and red. "It's hard not to be on your team when you're on mine."

"There's that." Stiles waved and left her office, head reeling with everything that had happened. He was still in a daze when he climbed into the Jeep, tapping his thumb against the steering wheel for a minute before starting the vehicle and heading home. By the time he'd gotten there, he'd worked out a very sketchy plan for how to get his job back. Just as he pulled the brake for the Jeep, his hand came up and hit the radio dial, turning it just slightly. Stiles laughed, immediately recognizing the song playing. "Let it be, let it be, yeah, there will be an answer, let it be." He smiled and sat back in the seat to listen to the rest of the song before getting out of the Jeep and heading inside where Boyd and Cora were sitting on the couch and looking cozy. 

Cora looked up, eyes narrowed. "How'd it go?"

Stiles grinned. "I got fired and Lydia cried on my shoulder about her marriage. But, I've got a plan. And I'm going to need everyone's help."

Boyd snorted. "You look like a madman."

"I'm a man. I'm mad. But, I'm fighting this. Now, how's Derek?" Stiles rubbed his hands together, looking between them expectantly.

"Derek's good." The man in question stumbled into the room, rubbing at his eyes. "You got fired?"

Hissing in a breath, Stiles pointed at Derek. "While you were sleeping, things happened. Bad things, kind of, but things you couldn't really do anything about right now anyway, so I just let you sleep. Uh, long story short? People think I'm sleeping with you and Deucalion for your accounts and someone has thrown around the phrase insider trading, though I don't think I've made any stock purchases lately, so I'm really not worried about jail. Just, y'know, the court of public opinion. But, it's okay. It's fine. I'm going to fight it, and I'm going to win." 

As Stiles spoke, Derek had moved closer, shuffling along clumsily until he was standing in front of Stiles. "That sucks." 

"It does." Stiles put a hand on Derek's forehead. "You don't feel as warm now so the medicine's obviously working on that. How do you feel?"

"Like I can't decide if the nap made me feel better or worse. But, whatever you need me to do to help you... It's a given that whatever you want is yours if I can possibly give it." Derek looked confused for a moment. "I think that made sense."

Shaking his head and laughing, Stiles gave Derek's shoulder a gentle shove. "Go sit down before you hurt yourself. Anyone hungry? I'm a little ravenous now because I don't think I've actually really eaten anything today."

Cora shrugged. "I could eat. What are you making and are you going to make me help?"

"Uh... grilled cheese and soup? And, I won't make you help. But, I will grumble in such a way that you'll feel compelled to help anyway. It's canned soup. Not exactly difficult." Stiles stuck out his tongue at her.

Boyd snorted and shook his head. "We both might as well go ahead and get our butts in the kitchen. I had plans today that involved not putting on pants and he got me with a freakin' text."

Stiles covered his mouth to try to hide some of his laughter, then made his way over to where Derek had sat down, leaning down to kiss him softly. "Just chill out there for a bit. I'll bring you some soup when it's done."

Derek nodded and curled up on the love seat, pulling a throw blanket over his legs. "Chicken noodle?"

"Duh. You're sick. Chicken noodle is kind of a must." Stiles smirked and headed toward the kitchen, opening the cupboards and starting to pull everything out that he might need; giving orders as he went along. "Boyd, there should be some shredded chicken in the fridge and some veggies we can add to this canned stuff. And grab the butter and sliced cheese, too. Cora? You're assembling sandwiches. Butter six slices of bread. See if you can find a big enough pan for all three sandwiches or else look for the griddle."

Working together, they all bantered back and forth as they got the meal ready, Stiles dishing out Derek's soup first and bringing it to him along with another dose of medication. Derek sat up on the couch and pulled the blanket up into his lap so he could rest his soup bowl on it, eating a spoonful that was too hot and grimacing, but still nodding. "This is delicious, Stiles."

"It's nothing. And stop giving my grilled cheese those looks. Milk products aren't exactly what you want to eat when you're coughing up phlegm. It'll make it thicker and more gross. I will make a giant stack of grilled cheese when you're well again, but you're literally dripping snot." He went back to the kitchen, coming back out with his own food and followed by Cora and Boyd.

Derek continued to eat his soup, sitting back and looking around. He stared at Cora for a moment and said softly, "Mom would have killed us for this."

Cora let out a sudden burst of laughter. "Oh, I know it! Eating on the couch. Feet up on the coffee table. We didn't do the dishes yet, either."

"I miss them." Derek stabbed at a chunk of carrot in his soup. "But, it doesn't hurt like it did. Having you back... Having Stiles and all of the people he brings along with him? I didn't realize just how lonely I was until, suddenly, I wasn't."

Boyd nodded. "Connecting and reconnecting go a long way toward that. I'm glad, though. Stilinski needed someone and I think you're just what he needed. I always thought he was kind of high maintenance, but he's a good guy."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Damning, but with a faint hint of praise. Should I be offended or offer my erstwhile maudlin words about how much I've managed to gain out of this whole deal with this big lug?" He slung an arm around Derek's neck. "I have a lot to thank him for, but some of that thanking has to wait until he's better." 

Derek managed to snort in such a way that he sprayed chicken broth out of his nose. Stiles was quick to take his soup bowl and start helping him to clean up, but then he joined Cora in raucous laughter. Derek pouted. "It's not funny. I'm pretty sure I have a chunk of noodle stuck in my sinuses."

"And you need to blow your nose anyway." Stiles handed him a tissue. "So, tomorrow, as long as you feel better, I'm going to need to have access to both the ad campaign that the other company did for Hale Hotels and what we ended up doing for you guys. I'm going to set up a bunch of stations around Sacramento staffed by Lydia's interns and whoever else wants to help and we're going to see who liked what better. When I have those numbers, I'll be able to strategize the best way to recover professionally from this."

Frowning, Derek reached over to grasp Stiles' hand. "Are you sure that's what you want to do?"

Stiles nodded. "I am. This is what I'm good at, Derek. I know how to sell things. Even myself. And this is just one of the steps. I don't know how I'll prove I'm not screwing you for an account, but..."

"Let me take care of that." Derek grimaced and took a moment to blow his nose. "Tomorrow. Or maybe the day after."

Grinning, Stiles ripped off a corner of his grilled cheese and handed it over. "Here. A tiny bit shouldn't kill you."

Cora shook her head. "Please. The two of you? Never own a pet."

Boyd glanced between Derek and Stiles. "I'm beginning to think that it's dangerous to tell them never. They both take it as a challenge."

Stiles shrugged. "With the kind of care my Jeep needs? I totally have a pet."

Rolling his eyes, Derek just went back to nibbling as his corner of grilled cheese sandwich.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to apologize for this taking so freaking long. Everything worked against me: computer problems, illnesses, irl things, writer's block, etc. But! Most of those things are cleared up, at least for the moment, so I'm going to do my best to finish this soon. Thanks!

It took the better part of two days to get everything set up for the polling stations, but soon enough Sacramento was covered with them in strategic locations. Lydia's interns were staffing the majority of the stations in groups of three, while Cora and Boyd joined Stiles at the last one located in the center of Sacramento's business district. "Anyone willing to participate in an informal survey about advertising, please come join us for a moment. This won't take long!" Stiles waved a bottle of water in the air. "If you complete the survey, you get a complimentary bottle of water for standing with us in the heat!"

Boyd rolled his eyes, but welcomed over a young woman and began showing her the two advertising campaigns which had been pitched for Hale Hotels, as well as one of the in-progress advertisements for Arcadia to compare to one of their most recent advertisements. Cora stood beside him with a clipboard holding a score sheet for the woman to mark her preference on. 

Stiles continued to attempt to flag down passersby, pausing at one point to send off a text to Jackson that they were running low on water and needed another case delivered. It only took a moment before he managed to flag someone else down, going over the scoring rubric with the man and showing off the materials they'd designed. He was just finishing up when there was a loud screech that made Stiles' head jerk up, searching out the source of the sound. His heart seemed to pump double time at the sight of Derek, holding a megaphone, and standing on the steps of the Sacramento capitol building. Cora took Stiles' clipboard and kicked the back of his calf, urging him forward to watch.

Derek shouted through the megaphone speaker, his voice still hoarse from his cold, "I have an announcement to make!" He waited a moment until all eyes were on him, then smiled as he continued. "My name is Derek Hale of Hale Hotels. I just got out of a press conference where some of my personal matters were extensively questioned. I had to explain that, no, Stiles Stilinski did not use sex to somehow encourage me to use his company's ad campaign. There were circumstances which led me to meet Mr. Stilinski completely outside of work and I fell in love with him. I loved him before he met Deucalion and proved himself worthy to work on his account which is when he gave up working on my account in the early stages of our relationship. I didn't even see his ad campaign until after he was no longer professionally involved with me. But, there are people spreading malicious rumors about him, so I'm out here on the streets to tell you all that I love him." Pausing, Derek smirked in Stiles' direction and descended the stairs, the crowd parting around him, and stood in front of Stiles. "This. This is the man I love. He is strong and brave and talented. He's beautiful, besides. He has proven in the relatively short time that I've known him to be exactly what I need in my life now. He gives me something to come home to; something that keeps me going through the day. He is a foil to the self-defeating parts of me that have kept me from fulfilling my family's legacy. I had no clue how miserable my life had been until he brought joy to it." He lifted Stiles' hand and pressed a kiss to his hand, then proceeded with his announcement. "I'm going to tell him I love him every day, and if I have to tell everyone else, too, so that he can be just as fulfilled? Then I'll do it. Stiles Stilinski is amazing at his job, but it's because he's amazing at everything... except picking out a wine. And I have all of the faith in the world that he can learn to do that, too."

Covering his face with his hands for a moment, Stiles laughed and then grabbed for the megaphone, saying loudly for the crowd, "And with a big romantic gesture like this, how could I not love this utter goober?" He sobered upon looking at Derek, grabbing his hand and holding it tightly. "I'm actually out here today with some lovely volunteers, more units of whom are scattered throughout the city, doing a blind poll about the advertisement I put together for Hale Hotels versus the advertisement it was up against. Go and see for yourself whether I deserve to get my job back. Anyone who takes the time to do so will get a free cold bottle of water. I've already had about six myself because it's a scorcher today." He let the hand holding the megaphone fall to his side and dropped his head against Derek's shoulder. "Oh my god, you could have warned me."

Derek laughed softly, turning his head away when it turned to a cough a moment later. "I could tell that some of the press had an agenda. I do want you to have the ability to go back to doing what you love, though."

Poking Derek's shoulder, Stile smirked. "I want to do what I love, too." He wiggled his eyebrows and ran a hand through his hair. "I do appreciate it, though. You putting yourself out there like this when it could blow up in the face of your business?"

"It won't, though. Even if it affects sales in the long run, the company is stronger than ever. I looked at the numbers when I was compiling them for Duke. No one will suffer even if we take a hit. I'll take a pay cut before we have to fire a single maid, concierge, or bellhop because of money. In case you hadn't noticed, I could probably just not get paid for the rest of my life and still be okay."

Stiles wrinkled his nose. "Let's try to avoid that while I'm jobless. How can you buy me nice things if I have to feel guilty about them?" He stuck out his tongue. "Just kidding, though. You do too much for me already." He frowned and stared at Derek's chest for a long moment. "We should probably revisit some things like the money. And maybe burn that stupid contract."

Pulling Stiles into an embrace, Derek hummed. "I almost want to frame it, though. Watching you type that was like artistic porn. Your fingers. Have you seen them?"

Lifting one hand, Stiles wiggled his fingers in front of Derek. "These?" He surveyed them carefully. "I guess I'm just not my type. But, seriously, do you need me to wax poetic about all of your astounding good bits over the megaphone, too? Because I'm reasonably certain I could give a villain monologue just about what I want to do to your ass, not even getting in to discussing the way it's kind of both perfectly muscular and just this great bubble butt thing and... I'm going to shut up now. My libido is kind of running high right now because of the heat and the romantic overtures and the fact that you've been sick."

Derek kissed Stiles softly, his eyelashes fluttering shut as the whole world seemed to still for one perfect moment. "I should really move on. People need to know I love you."

Stiles pouted, his fingers clutched at Derek's wrists. "I need to know you love me, though." He sighed. "Fine. Go tell the world." He let his thumb skim along the side of Derek's wrist for a moment. "Take some more medicine, though. And stop by to grab some water first? Your voice is starting to sound rough already."

Pulling a cough drop from his pocket, Derek popped it in his mouth with a wiggle of his eyebrows. "Got it. And, tonight, depending on how tired we are... I could maybe prove my love to you?"

Fanning himself with one hand, Stiles nodded softly. "As long as I don't get heat stroke or a horrible sunburn out here? I'm game."

Derek nodded gruffly and took the megaphone from Stiles. "Reapply your sunscreen often, then. If you're going to be red, I'd like to make you that way." He walked away, his shoulders looking wide and capable.

Coughing, Stiles shook his head and jogged a few steps forward. "You can't just say things like that! Ugh. Fine. Go be amazing elsewhere." He continued to watch Derek as he walked for a moment, enjoying the relative calm of the sidewalk as people passed by him, then wandered back over to where Cora and Boyd stood helping two women through the poll. He picked up another clipboard and gestured to a man waiting. "Hey! Thanks for your patience. So, let me explain a little bit about what this is for before I introduce you to the materials."

* * *

That evening, as the summer sun continued to burn bright in the sky and the city traffic slowed, Stiles began packing up their materials and loading them into the back of his Jeep. "Thanks, Cora. Boyd. You guys were amazing today. If the numbers I'm getting from everybody else are right on how many surveys they managed? I've got plenty for a decent sample size so I don't think we need to do this again tomorrow."

Cora rolled her eyes and stretched her arms above her head. "Good. I'm not used to mornings yet, so I'd at least like to sleep in one day this week."

Grabbing the completed polling surveys and shoving them into a large envelope, Boyd handed it to Stiles and grinned. "Good. Now, I'm going to drive Cora home. Call me if you need me, but try not to need me. I'm a business owner. I may get to make the rules, but I still need to be there sometimes."

"Seriously, Boyd, I am so glad to have you back in my life and helping with this. And when it comes time for the Hale Hotels Christmas party? They're going to come have it at your skating rink and you can charge double for putting a peppermint stick in the hot cocoa while you wear a Santa hat." Stiles hugged the envelope to his chest. "And now I'm going to go see Derek and convince him that he doesn't need to go in tomorrow." Boyd rolled his eyes, but waved as Stiles ran off.

Stiles stopped by Lydia's office before heading home, dropping off the results, then raced on to park the Jeep in the garage, leaving the cooler full of melted ice in the back as he started to jog through the garage and into the house proper. As he crossed the threshold, his phone rang. He fumbled his phone as he pulled it from his pocket, but managed to answer before it went to voice mail. "Stiles Stilinski speaking."

There was a crackle before a familiar-sounding voice came over the line. "Mr. Stilinski. This is Steven Dickson. I'm calling to apologize and offer you your job back." 

"What?" Stiles paused with his hand in the process of pulling the door shut behind him. "Why?"

"Thanks to the news coverage today, we've become aware of the error of our thinking. That's all. We'll expect you on Monday, as usual." Mr. Dickson cleared his throat. "If you have any further questions, we can discuss them then. Good evening, Mr. Stilinski." 

The line went quiet and the call ended, leaving Stiles to pull the door shut finally and lean against it, staring at his phone. It was only when Derek came walking into the kitchen a while later and looked startled, his eyebrows raising in question, that Stiles finally pushed off again. "I just got my job back."

Derek look confused and began to walk closer slowly. "Isn't that what you wanted?"

"I don't..." Stiles sighed. "Not like this? They saw the news coverage from today and freaked out. I was all set to prove that I'm good, and now I'm suddenly expected back there on Monday. I have to wonder now if someone from Arcadia called them to say they were going to pull their account if I wasn't reinstated. Deucalion seemed pretty set on it being me who handled it."

His mouth a tensed line, Derek reached out a hand to cup Stiles' shoulder. "What are you going to do, then?"

"That's the thing though. I don't know. I had plans! There were plans and now they're screwed up and... I thought the problem was going to be to get them to trust me again. But, now? Now I'm realizing that I don't know if I can trust them. And how am I supposed to work there if I can't trust that they're just going to do that again because someone else says something unfounded?"

Derek shook his head "You shouldn't. Work there, that is."

Stiles rubbed at his eyes, taking a deep breath. "I guess I'll need to update my resume. Maybe I can add the blind poll results on there so it's not a total waste."

"No. I mean... start your own firm." Derek shrugged. "Look, if you need startup capital? I'm willing to help you there. We can be partners, even. You've got two guaranteed big-name clients, Hale Hotels and Arcadia, who will be happy to sign on immediately. Lydia started a business and knows all of the law issues. Jackson knows how to run the financials."

"I..." Stiles licked his lips, pulling away from Derek to start pacing around the kitchen. "No. That's... I literally never dreamed of having my own firm."

Holding out a hand toward Stiles, Derek shrugged. "I never dreamed of finding you, or really getting Cora back, or anything that's happened since I met you. I can't get all of the miracles out of this, Stiles. You deserve good things, and honestly? You're just the person to do this. You know how to take charge. You're good at it."

"Monday," Stiles said suddenly. "I'll decide on Monday. But, everything that's been happening? It's stressful. Very. So, for tonight and all of tomorrow, no work. All play. I'm expecting a full body massage. Wine. The works." He let his hand touch against Derek's, their fingers curling together.

Derek moved in closer and used his free hand to cup Stile' jaw. "How about we start with taking a dip in the pool together? I think we're both a little sweaty from today."

Stiles' nose wrinkled. "I think my trunks are in the hamper."

"So, don't wear them. Private pool." Derek grinned and let his thumb stroke against Stiles' bottom lip. "The pool cleaner's coming tomorrow anyway. It would be a shame if he didn't feel fulfilled when doing his job."

There was a long pause as they locked eyes before Stiles broke the connection and began moving toward the pool, taking off his clothes as he went, hearing Derek do the same behind him. Stiles kicked off his shorts and let them fall atop his shoes, gracelessly shoving them off until he could stand behind them in only his boxer briefs. Derek was quick to reach the same state. "On three?"

Derek nodded and counted slowly. "One." Their fingers inched under their waistbands. "Two." They stretched them slightly in preparation. "Three." In a flash, they both pulled their underwear down in mirrored motions, stepping out naked and walking toward one another. "Stiles... Fuck."

Hands held awkwardly to his sides, Stiles shrugged. "You're looking pretty good there yourself. So, uh, water before I get even more self conscious." And with a grin, he turned and jumped into the pool, the water splashing up and onto Derek's feet, before popping back up and shaking some of the water from his face as he pulled himself close to the edge. "Whew! That's invigorating."

Standing naked, arms akimbo, Derek stared down at Stiles in the water for a moment. His cock visibly twitched, making Stiles smirk, and then Derek bent his knees and jumped over Stiles, diving into the pool with very little splash. He surfaced a moment later with a grin, droplets of water caught in his facial hair. "At least one of us has the confidence to show off."

Stiles rolled his eyes as he let his body lower further into the water. "You've seen Jackson and Danny and Boyd. Those are the kind of people I went to school with Everyone was bizarrely attractive. I'm confident in other things, but the body thing might take me some work. I still haven't exactly had a lot of people want me for anything more than business."

Derek stepped across the bottom of the pool, the water rippling around him and catching the sunlight in the waves, until he was in front of Stiles. Slowly, he slid his hands around Stiles' back and pulled him upright again. "Do I need to worship your body to show you how much it's worth?"

"I wouldn't say no." Stiles pressed a hand to Derek's chest. "Maybe if I'd worked out a bit more, I'd have looked in the mirror enough to have the confidence you do."

Licking his bottom lip quickly, Derek shook his head. "You have every right to be confident right now with exactly who you are and what you look like. The number of times I've thought of you this way since we met is probably ridiculous, but it honestly pales in comparison to how you really are. And maybe how I feel about you affects that, but all I want right now is to touch you all over and learn your body like I'm going to be tested later."

"Nerd." Stiles pushed closer to Derek until their chests were pressed together. "Maybe we should study together, then." His hips twisted slightly so that his cock came into contact with Derek's hip and he gasped, the sound nearly swallowed in the noise of the water filtration system kicking in. "I wouldn't mind studying that a bit more."

Derek shifted to repeat the motion, drawing in a soft gasp as he watched Stiles' face. "I was hoping to maybe jerk each other off? The filtration system's good enough to handle it."

"Then let's get in slightly less deep water." Stiles arched his back and reached behind him, moving his arms so they slid through the water, propelling him backward to where he could stand without the movement of the water affecting his balance. He lifted his hand, crooking his finger to beckon Derek closer. "Let's try here?"

It only took a moment for Derek to join him, kissing Stiles deeply as he stood and arranged their bodies together. He let his hands rest on Stiles' waist for only a moment before sliding them against his wet flesh, left hand reaching back to cup Stiles' ass while his right more hesitantly moved around the front until his hand was just barely touching Stiles' cock. He pulled his mouth away so he could catch Stiles' gaze. "You sure about this?"

Nodding, Stiles let his own hands move to a similar position with a soft exhalation as Derek's fingers flexed against his cock in response. It was too quick a thing, the way they touched and moved with single-minded abandon, the sound of the water gently splashing interspersed with gasps and moans echoing off every available surface. 

Derek came first, his shoulders tensing as he spread his legs wider to maintain his balance, his hand sliding off of Stiles' cock as he came, his face twitching in indication. Stiles stood silent next to him for a moment, unsure of how to broach the topic of his still-erect cock. And then, Derek grabbed Stiles and moved through the water with him, manhandling him up and onto the edge of the pool where he stood between Stiles' thighs and licked his lips. "Can I suck your cock?"

Stiles let his hands rest against the ground and nodded softly. "Just don't complain if it makes your throat hurt more."

"I'd complain if it didn't." Derek pulled his lips over his teeth, the skin still glistening with moisture, and leaned forward to take Stiles into his mouth, tongue pressed tightly against Stiles' shaft as Derek worked further down it. 

It was the work of several minutes to bring him to completion as Derek kept teasing him to the brink and then backing off maddeningly until Stiles used his ankles to wrap around Derek's back, holding him in place as he begged using very word that came to mind. Only as he groaned out a particularly loud "Please!" did Derek seem to take pity of him, finally coaxing him through his orgasm, swallowing down his come and nursing at his cock for a long moment afterward until Stiles shuddered and pressed a hand to Derek's cheek. "I'm a little sensitive now, you asshole, so quit that."

The look on Derek's face when he sank down to tread water in the pool could easily be described as smug. "I take it you liked that?"

"Like you didn't?" Stiles kicked his foot through the water, grinning at the tiny wave of it that hit Derek in the face. "You're the one literally swimming in your own jizz. Not a kink I've thought a lot about, really, but I'm glad you seem to enjoy it."

Derek raised an eyebrow. "You've never imagined being covered in it, at least?"

Stiles snorted. "Not everyone's into the bukkake thing, actually, but if you are? I will be quite happy to oblige you as much as I can."

With the tips of his ears turning pink, Derek nodded. "We probably should get back inside. It looks like you did get a little sunburn today after all."

"And giving an impromptu BJ is making your voice painful to listen to so you should take some more medicine while I make dinner. And after that? Something fun, but not remotely physically taxing."

Derek hoisted himself up to the side of the pool next to Stiles and then stood, groaning as he looked around. "You know what we forgot? Towels."

"Uh..." Stiles glanced around to double-check. "So we did. Guess we need to go shower off the chlorine and come, though, and that's when we'll really need them. You're wetter than I am, anyway."

"Race you to the shower in our room?" Derek grabbed Stiles' hand, pulling him up beside him.

Stiles answered by racing ahead toward the door with Derek yelling behind him, hot on his heels.


End file.
